


Surviving the Wasteland

by Hyooman



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Steel, Canon-Typical Violence, Distrust, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Honor, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, The Pitt, Uneasy Allies, point lookout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyooman/pseuds/Hyooman
Summary: Grace is reckless, naive, and inexperienced, a bad combination to be in Post-Apocalyptia. The wasteland is a dangerous place and few can survive it alone. Good thing she finds Charon when she does.





	1. Leaving Vault 101

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be a bit sporadic for a while. I appreciate the patience.

Mr. Brotch finished reading the questions to the G.O.A.T. and went to sit behind his desk. The projector showed the Stand By screen, illuminating the room with a dim light. The almost non-existent lighting in the classroom always made it difficult to read their tests, but the arrangement for the desks, with one column on either side of the room with the projector between them, made it easy to read the projector. Mr. Brotch’s desk sat in the front of the room to the left, a table covered in scientific glassware and hotplates.

Grace took a moment to check over her answers. 1. A. “But doctor, wouldn’t that cause a parabolic destabilization of the fission singularity?” 3. A. Give the boy a hug and tell him everything will be ok. 4. D. None, you wish the vault had a soccer team. 7. B. Large doses of anti-mutagen agent. 9. A. Loosen some bolts on the sink. When the sink is turned on, the room will flood.

10\. Whichever. The Overseer.

As she was checking things over Amata, Paul, Butch and Wally all approached Mr. Brotch’s desk to get their test results. Satisfied with her work, Grace rose to follow them, waiting patiently behind Wally as the others got their results first. She couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the other’s job assignments, and she had to admit that they made good fits. Paul was mechanically-minded enough to make a good engineer, Amata most certainly had a way of inspiring people to follow her, and Butch’s obsession with his own hair would make him a fine hairdresser. However, Grace couldn’t help but be a little peeved at Wally’s arrogance over figuring out and playing the test. She’d done the exact same thing, or course, but there was no reason to be a prick about it. She caught Mr. Brotch's eye and gave him an exaggerated eye roll, earning herself an almost smile from the teacher.

“Ah, Grace. Ready for your test results?” Mr’ Brotch asked, barely looking up.

“I’m ready for the final verdict, Mr. Brotch,” Grace joked, earning herself a stern glance from the teacher.

“Well, well. Pip-Boy Programmer, eh? Stanley will finally have someone to talk shop with.” Mr. Brotch looked pleased.

Grace gave a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thanks, sir. That sounds great.”

Mr. Brotch smiled, “Good to know that the G.O.A.T. occasionally gets it right. You know what they say about monkeys and typewriters…”

“Thanks, Mr. Brotch. I’ll see ya later.”

“Take care, Ms. Moreno.”

Grace turned to walk toward the door to see Amata waiting just outside. As she turned and left she walked Susie and Christine waiting to get their results, while poor Freddie sat, fidgeting anxiously, still mulling over his test. Grace sent a silent encouragement his way before continuing to the classroom door, where Amata stood waiting.

“So, I take it I’ll be answering to you in a few years?” Grace joked as she approached her long-time friend.

“God, I hope not,” Amata said, grimacing. “That would be way too weird.”

“Aww,” Grace gave a disappointed look. “But then who’s going to keep me out of trouble?”

Amata gave her a steely look and Grace couldn’t help but chuckle.

They fell into step beside each other and walked down the brightly lit hall side by side. They passed Butch’s crew, which loitered outside the classroom. Grace barely spared them a glance.

“So, Pip-Boy programmer?” Amata asked once they passed, giving Grace that look she gives when she’s preparing to lecture someone on why yes, hacking Andy to only talk like a cowboy is a bad idea.

Grace raised an eyebrow at Amata for a moment, trying to figure out what that look was about. “Yeah. I mean, I’m good with computers and robots. I know my way around technology. Do you not think I’d be a good programmer?”

“Oh, no, you’ll make a great programmer!” Amata rubbed the back of her head. “I just really thought, you know, you’d end up the next vault physician. Like your dad? Hasn’t he been teaching you?”

Grace looked forward and sighed. It was true, her father had been giving her medical training since she was a kid. He’d done so mostly because she wanted to learn, but she didn’t think trying to follow in her father’s footsteps would end well for her. At least not while the Overseer held that mysterious grudge against her and her father.

Grace chose her words carefully, “While I’m probably qualified… I don’t think the current overseer would allow me to take up the same occupation as my father. I can still be of use to the vault this way.”

Amata sighed and went quiet for a moment, looking resigned. “Yeah. You’re probably right... I just don't get it. You're smart. You don't cause trouble. You've been my friend since we were little. Why does my dad act like you're no better than Butch?”

Grace's face turned to stone. "I have no idea."

***

Grace stood staring into the old classroom, carrying a pack on one arm and a 10mm pistol in the other. Around her alarms blared. Only the emergency lights remained on, bathing the Vault’s halls in orange light. Inside the classroom the science table had been overturned, sending broken glass and papers all over the floor.

Grace remembered the day she took the G.O.A.T. and everything that came with it. If she had known it would come to this back then she wondered what she’d have done differently. Maybe she would have pursued medicine instead of programming. Maybe she wouldn’t have changed anything. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore.

She couldn’t stay in the Vault any longer. She gripped her 10mm pistol and turned to leave, abandoning her memories to collect dust along with the desks and broken glass.

***

Grace stood in front of what must be the vault door. It looked like a massive gear, with the numbers “101” printed on it in faded white paint. The room was dark and empty, save for a few control panels, tools, and empty crates. For the first time since Amata woke her up Grace couldn’t hear or see the vault alarms anymore. It was almost peaceful.  
She didn’t have time to enjoy the peace and quiet, however. There was still the matter of vault security and the Overseer. Not to mention the disappearance of her father.

As Grace turned to the control console and entered the command to open the door Amata burst into the chamber. After they said their teary goodbyes they embraced each other. Grace was filled with a deep sadness, knowing she’d probably never see her friend again.

As they hugged the vault door began screeching and the alarm began blaring the girls heard shouting from behind them. After one last glance at each other they bolted, Amata back into the vault and Grace toward the gear-like vault door. Grace squeezed through with her pack as soon as the gap was wide enough. She was through just in time to dodge the shots the security officers fired at her.

Once she reached the other side of the door Grace saw a dark stone tunnel sloping upwards towards a bright light. She immediately ran towards the light. The vault door continued to screech behind her, opening wider and wider. Vault security continued to fire shots at her, sending up puffs of dirt around her feet.

Grace reached the light and the rotted screen door at the end of the tunnel she burst through it at full force, throwing herself into the ground and the bright sunlight beyond. She gasped as the light burned her sensitive eyes and made them water. She realized too late that twenty years in the dark underground had made her eyes too sensitive to the light.  
She curled up against a large rock to her side and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the burning to subside.

After a long boring wait Grace’s eyes were adjusted enough that she could finally see though the tears. She looked around her, blinking through the tears that still ran from her eyes and she stood, taking in the dust and ruins of the wasteland. Then she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

The sky above her was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It was vast and held more shades of blue than she could ever have imagined. Off in the distance, along the horizon, she saw fluffy white clouds that looked softer than cotton. The early morning sun above her shown in brilliant yellow.

The sky was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.


	2. A Tentative Start

Grace spotted a group of ruined houses down toward her left. Everywhere else she looked was rock and dust and ruined overpasses, so she decided the ruined town might be a good place to start. She needed to find people if she was going to feed herself, find shelter, and, hopefully, pick up her father’s trail. She didn’t see any better options right now.

The houses didn’t have much. She found some drugs in an old mail drop box, a book in a mailbox, some strange food in an old broken fridge that seemed edible, some alcohol in an old wine cabinets, and some men’s clothes in an abandoned suitcase, as well as another 10mm pistol and some ammo in a safe, all scattered around the five ruined houses on the first road she came to. She hoped she’d be able to trade her finds soon enough. She still needed water and shelter and these things were going to be all she had to barter with.

As she moved farther down the broken street she spotted a sign. On it, painted in yellow, was the word “MEGATON” and below it an arrow pointing to the right, toward a hill that Grace couldn’t see over. She decided to continue exploring the ruins before heading over to see if she could find anything else worth trading. The more she had to trade the better off she’d be.

This street lead toward what looked like an old school. Two of the houses on this street seemed structurally sound, but both were boarded up. There were also two more decayed houses. One contained a wine cabinet with more alcohol and bobby pins. The other was empty, but the mailbox had a vault tec letter in it addressed to a Mr. and Mrs. Gomez. The family was assigned to Vault 101. Her mind went straight to Freddie and Officer Gomez. She hoped they were okay.

As she read Grace heard shouting coming from the school. She crouched behind a ruined wall and looked toward where the shouting was coming from. A group of people wearing spiked leather and dragging the carcass of a strange animal behind them toward the broken school building. The people were hooting and hollering victoriously as others exited the school to greet them. Their behavior suggested the image of a pack of wild animals celebrating a fresh kill. She decided it would be best to leave before they spotted her. 

Grace headed back toward the sign, and then toward Megaton. As she crested the hill she saw a massive metal gate and metal walls that she guessed surrounded the town. At the gate stood a protectron, and above it a sniper.

One brief introduction, and warning, later and she was in.

***

The girl who walked through the gate couldn’t have been more than 20. She had dark brown hair that was tied back in a ponytail and skin that was too pale from lack of sunlight. She looked tired and worn out, like someone who’d been running scared for an entire day and a half. However, her eyes were sharp and alert, observant, but not unkind. The blue and yellow jumpsuit she wore made her origins obvious. Vault suits in such good condition were rare outside the vaults themselves. It had been a long time since he’d seen a vault dweller and there was something about this one that he liked right away.

When Simms greeted the girl, she was friendly enough. Polite and respectful to a T, if a bit brash. She pushed for information about her missing father, but Simms hardly had the time to keep track of everyone entering and leaving Megaton and he told her as much. Grace seemed disappointed, but continued asking questions, this time about the town. He didn’t have much time to spare for this sort of thing, but this Grace kid was nice enough and it looked like she could use a friend so he decided to give her a few minutes.

As they spoke they ended up on the topic of the bomb. When Simms admitted that he didn’t trust any of the locals to tinker with it Grace offered to take a look at it. The old sheriff was both impressed and skeptical, giving her the chance but warning her to take her time. He even offered her some caps if she could get the job done. The girl seemed smart and no doubt had a vault education. It was a gamble worth taking.

“So, now that I’m helping you maybe you could help me. I’m looking for my dad...” Grace looked at Simms expectantly.

Simms sighed but thought about her question again. After a moment, something came back to him. “Now that I think about it, a stranger did pass through here. Had a look in his eye, like a man with a purpose.” Simms cocked hid head as he thought. “Go talk to Moriarty. All manner of folks pass through his saloon. He might know where your old man went. Be careful, though. Moriarty isn’t the most trustworthy of people.”

“Thank you, sheriff,” Grace respectfully inclined her head. “I better get going.”

“Take care,” Simms nodded back and turned back to his work, hoping Moriarty wouldn’t try anything too slimy with the girl.

***

By the time Grace entered the saloon it was early afternoon. The inside of the bar was well lit, but with entirely artificial light as there were no windows. The entire inside was brown and the air felt dusty. There was a set of stairs to the left leading up to the second floor, and the large room was bisected by an L-shaped bar. Behind the bar a man covered in scars and missing patches of skin was banging on a radio in a misguided attempt to get it to work. In front of the bar a red-haired woman in revealing clothes and fishnet stockings chastised him, saying something about the radio being fine. Grace took the two for employees.

As Grace approached the bar the two wrapped up their conversation and separated, the woman toward the stairs and the scarred man toward the center of the bar, waiting for Grace to take a seat and order something. He seemed nervous, keeping his voice low and refusing to look her in the eye.

“Hey, smoothskin. Do you need something?” he asked in a raspy voice, avoiding any direct eye contact. “A drink, maybe? Anything at all?”

Grace smiled politely, trying to help the barkeep relax. “Sure. Just a moment, please.” She said, glancing around for a menu of some sort.

The rotted man looked confused. “Wait… you’re not gonna hit me? Yell at me? Not even berate me a little?”

Grace’s reeled a bit, eyes widened in shock and confusion. “Geez, no. Why would I do that?”

The necrotic man relaxed and seemed apologetic. “Sorry. Most folks in this town tend to give me shit just because I look like a corpse. I was just surprised, though I’m glad to see that there are a few worthwhile people around here.” 

Grace was saddened by the realization. She felt for the guy. After a brief pause, she extended her hand. The barkeep flinched, but when he realized she wasn’t going to hit him he reached out and took it. Grace smiled kindly and gave him a firm handshake.

“I’m Grace.”

“Everyone calls me Gob.” He responded, smiling a little.

“Hey, maybe you can help me,” Grace said, figuring an employee of Moriarty might know something. “I’m looking for my father. Middle-aged guy, blue jumpsuit, green eyes. Would have come through here about … twelve hours ago. Have you seen anyone like that?”

Gob thought for a moment. “Yeah! I remember a guy like that. Salt-and-pepper hair. Lab coat. Had a long talk with Moriarty. Honestly I tend to keep my head down, so I don’t know much. You should talk to Moriarty, he’ll know more.”

Grace sighed. So much for that workaround.

“Hey,” Gob said hesitantly. “I’m sorry, but if Moriarty catches me chatting with you and you don’t have a drink he’ll have my head.”

“Oh, sorry,” Grace fumbled in her pack. “Is pre-war money okay?”

“Yeah, I can trade for that,” Gob nodded. “What’ll it be?”

“What have you got that isn’t alcohol?”

Grace ordered a Nuka-Cola and Gob gave her some bottle caps in exchange for the money. Grace gazed at the caps in her hand. “What are these for?” She asked.

“…Those are caps,” He spoke slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. “You use them to buy and sell things.”

“Oh! So they’re a form of currency.”

“Yeah! That! They’re a lot more durable than pre-war cash, and don’t stain as easy.”

Grace tried not to think too hard about what might stain money.

“So where is this Moriarty, anyway?” Grace asked, trying to change the subject.

“Somewhere in town, probably hunting down unpaid tabs. No idea when he’ll be back,” Gob answered.

“Thanks. So, where are you from?” Grace asked, looking to start a new conversation.

“I’m from D.C. There’s this ghoul city called Underworld there.”

Grace’s brow furrowed. “What’s a ghoul?”

Gob paused, wondering if Grace was joking. When Grace just gazed back at him with a confused look he decided she probably wasn't. “Uhhh… well, ghouls are people who have gotten too much radiation poisoning? It makes our skin dry out and flake off, but we can heal from radiation and we don’t age much. Dr. Barrows in Underworld can tell you more. I don’t know a lot of the details about it.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Grace nodded her acceptance. “So where exactly is Underworld?”

“The Museum of Natural History. If your ever in the area say hi to Carol for me? She runs the hotel there.”

“Sure thing!” Grace spotted movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a man in a white suit and matching fedora waving her over. Grace took a swig from her drink as she eyed him. “Hey, Gob. Talk to you later?”

Gob smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

As Grace left the bar with her cola Gob went back to work, wiping down the counter.

***

After her conversation with Mr. Burke, Grace decided it would be best to handle the bomb sooner rather than later. Dad and Moriarty would have to wait.

She briefly considered alerting Sheriff Simms, but it would be her word against Burke’s and there was no telling which of them Simms would believe. After her recent brush with vault security she wasn’t sure if she was willing to trust that kind of authority. She decided it would be best to just go ahead before Burke found someone more compliant.

Some of the Church of Atom followers were gathered around the bomb, preaching something about giving birth to civilizations or some other nonsense. She’d been hoping to get this done while their backs were turned, but there was no telling how much time she had. Waiting wasn't really an option. She'd just have to hope that they were the non-violent type of religious zealots.

She worked for the better part of an hour, not daring to rush through the job. In her head she carefully went over the parts and schematics she’d learned in school as she worked. She carefully shifted around wires and parts until she found the detonator. A few disconnected wires later and she yanked it out, but didn’t close the bomb back up until she had destroyed any point where a new detonator could be connected. Now the only danger that bomb posed was the radiation it would be leaking for the next thousand or so years. Satisfied with her work, she closed the bomb's shell back up and waded out of the radioactive pool at its base.

As she walked away from the bomb she spotted the sheriff approaching the Brass Lantern, so she took the opportunity to shove the detonator into his hand. Next thing she knew he was giving her a key and a deed and was directing her toward an empty house near the town's gate.

She thanked the Sheriff, not knowing what else to say, and bid him farewell. He gave a friendly nod and returned to whatever it was he was doing before Grace interrupted him.

When Grace opened the door to her house she was confronted by a Mr. Handy demanding to know whether she had the deed. When Grace showed it to him he relaxed and introduced himself as Wadsworth, her new robot butler. Wadsworth gave her a brief rundown of his functions, cleaning, providing haircuts, and preparing food and refreshments, following this up by showing her a corner filled with dozens of bottles of purified water and giving her a full tour of the house.

Grace unpacked her things as she went. One of the lockers was dedicated to weapons, the other to parts and other assorted junk. The fridge held food, drinks and chems and the few books she’d collected so far went on the dusty bookshelf. The filing cabinet in the only room with a bed was dedicated to clothes. In the desk, she stored things of sentimental value. Her old BB gun, her baseball cap, her copy of Grognak the Barbarian that Amata had given her, and the Tunnel Snakes jacket Butch had given her.

She stopped when she dug out the holotape she’d found on Jonas, holding it in her hand. She needed to listen to it, to hear what her father had to say, but a part of her was scared of what she might hear. Maybe her father didn't want her around anymore. Maybe he was sick of her and the vault. In the end, her need to know won out. She shoved it into her pip-boy and hit play. The message didn’t make her feel better, and it didn’t explain much, but at least she had confirmed her suspicion that her father must have had a good reason for leaving the way he had. That he hadn’t just abandoned her.

As the tape ended, those last three words, “I love you,” seemed to crash into her and she fell into the desk chair, unable to stand any longer. The weight of the day hit her like a train. The alarms, the escape from the vault, the two dead men she’d left in her wake, the wasteland, the bomb, the stress of it all left her feeling drained and lost. What was she supposed to do now? She had lost everything in one fell swoop, and then the sheriff, out of the kindness of his heart, just gave her a house, no questions asked. He didn’t even know her. He had no idea what she’d done. Even the ghoul bartender had been far too nice to her. She didn’t deserve any of it.

She sat and thought everything over, needing to find a purpose, a distraction from the stress and grief she felt over losing the only home she’d ever known. In the end, she decided there was only one thing she could do. She knew nothing and no one out here on the surface. The only person she had left in the world was out there, somewhere. She had to find him. This would have to become her new driving force.

With her purpose solid in her mind she packed the holotape into the desk and rose. She had a bar owner to confront.


	3. The First Foray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter.

Grace returned to the saloon to find a grey-haired man doing inventory behind the bar. Gob was serving a few men at the bar and Nova was chatting up some drunk next to the stairs. The hour was getting late and the saloon was beginning to fill with patrons looking for an evening drink. A quick survey of the room revealed that Mr. Burke had left and Grace was able to relax a bit.

Grace caught Gob’s eye and glanced meaningfully to the grey-haired man behind the bar. Gob gave a slight nod in answer. Grace smiled back at him, nodding her thanks as she walked behind the bar.

“Mr. Moriarty?” Grace decided that the polite route would be best to start out with, keeping in mind the warning Simms had given her.

The grey-haired man turned and gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Colin Moriarty’s the name. What can I do for you, girl?” The man spoke with a slight accent Grace didn’t recognize.

“I’m looking for my father. Middle-aged man, green eyes, would have been through here early this morning. I was told you’re the man to ask.”

***

Grace’s talk with Moriarty left her head spinning. Anger and confusion, disbelief and sense warred inside her and it made her feel ill. Moriarty was probably just trying to tell her some lie to whittle out a few extra caps from her. There was no way that she and her father weren’t from the vault, was there? No one enters, no one leaves; we live in the Vault, we die in the Vault.

Though, that last statement probably didn’t hold true for her or her father anymore.

At any rate, it was obvious that Moriarty was trying to squeeze out any caps he could get from her. But then again, he’d seemed genuinely sorry when he mentioned her mom. It was downright strange. How could he have known about that? Grace decided not to dwell on it before she got a headache from it all.

Moriarty had asked Grace to hunt down some poor woman who owed him caps. Grace wasn’t keen on being Moriarty’s errand girl, but she simply didn’t have the caps to pay him. It was either find Silver or figure out another way to get the information she needed, and Grace wasn’t seeing any other options at the moment.

Grace decided to stick around in the bar for a while to get to know some of the townsfolk. She talked to Lucy West and found herself hired to bring a letter to her family in Arefu. She talked to Billy Creel about the caravans and their people. She had a conversation with Nathan about the Enclave that ended badly when she asked the wrong question. She talked to Nova about Gob and to Gob about anything that came to mind, slowly nursing a Nuka-Cola the entire time.

After deciding to call it a night Grace left the bar to find a sky full of stars. She leaned on the railing, gazing upward. She’d never seen the stars before, and mentally kicked herself for spending so much time in the dusty bar when she could have been looking at them. The night was cloudless and the moon was nowhere to be seen, allowing the stars to shine brightly against a black background. The Milky Way was clear and bright. Grace found herself wishing that she could reach out and touch them.

She gazed at them for a while before exhaustion began to call out to her and she headed back to her new house to get some sleep.

***

The first thing Grace did when she got up the next morning was head to Craterside Supply to trade what little she had. When she opened the door to the shop acrid-smelling smoke came pouring out of the door. Inside two people, a man and a woman, were coughing and trying to fan smoke away from their faces. The woman was dressed in a mechanic’s jumpsuit. The man was dressed in combat armor and had a gun strapped to his back.

“Hey, there! C’mon in!” the woman spoke in an excessively cheery voice. “Don’t worry about the smoke. It’s safe to breathe. Honest!” As the smoke cleared the woman finally looked up at Grace. “Oh! You’re that vault girl everyone’s been talking about! Come in! I actually had a few questions I wanted to ask you!”

Grace entered the shack warily. The armed man seemed to gather his bearings and straightened, crossing his arms and fixing Grace with a stern look. Grace just gave him an awkward nod and looked around the room, taking it the various supplies, weapons, and junk scattered about the room.

“Don’t mind Roman. He’s a bit of a sourpuss today.”

The man just snorted in response.

“I’m Moira! I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me write the introduction to my book?”

“What kind of book is it?”

“A survival guide for the wasteland. An introduction written by a vault dweller would be a perfect start! I’ll pay you for your contribution, of course!”

Grace spotted an armored 101 vault suit on display behind the counter. “Where’d you get that vault suit?”

Moira turned to follow Grace’s gaze. “Oh, that? A girl from the vault came here about … 10 years ago now? I offered to armor her vault suit for her. Never saw her again, poor thing. Probably died out there. I’ll throw it into your payment if you want.”

“Okay. What do you need from me?”

“Just describe what life was like inside the Vault. Come on over here. I should record this.” Moira walked behind the counter and pulled out a recorder with a holotape inside and hit a button. “Go ahead.”

“Aright… Well, it was nice. It was safe, and there was plenty of food and water. Everyone had a job. It was peaceful… But, you couldn’t leave. They told us that the surface was inhospitable, that nothing could live up here. I’m still not sure what to think of everything.”

“So why did you leave?” Moira asked.

Grace wrung her hands together. “When my dad left and the overseer went crazy. He killed Jonas, dad’s assistant. If I hadn’t left right then he would have killed me, too.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Here,” Moira grabbed the vault suit from the wall and a handful of caps from under the counter and handed both to Grace when she suddenly got this ecstatic look in her eyes. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! You’ll be in need of a job, right?”

“Um… yes, I suppose I am.”

“Why don’t you become my assistant?” Moira leaned on her counter with enthusiasm. “I need someone to help me with my research for my book. I’ll pay you well. Chems, explosives, food, a few other things, and caps of course.”

Grace’s brows furrowed. “You said this was a survival guide?”

“Yes! The wasteland is a dangerous place. People like that girl with the vault suit fail to return all the time. A guide to surviving out there could help a lot of people. It’s for a good cause. Honest.”

“What kind of research is it?”

“That depends. I haven’t planned past the first few chapters, but for the first three I’ll need you to find food and medical supplies, get irradiated, and explore a minefield and bring me back a frag mine.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh, it really isn’t! Promise! Nothing you wouldn’t face out there anyway. And at least this way you’re getting paid for it.”

Grace considered for a moment. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Grace offered her hand to shake on it. Moira darted from around the counter to give her a rib-crushing hug instead. Grace went stiff, unsure if how to respond.

“Oh, thank you! This is great!” Moira said as she finally released Grace.

“So, what’s first?” Grace asked.

“You should probably look for that food and medical supplies first. There’s a Super Duper Mart just south of here that you should check out.”

“I’ll do that, but there’s a few things I have to do before I get to starting that research.”

“Take your time! Rushing research never leads to good results,” Moira said sagely.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I have a few things I was looking to sell,” Grace placed her pack on the counter and began digging around.

*** 

After bartering with Moira over some alcohol and clothes Grace had about 80 caps to her name. Not enough to pay Moriarty. So, she went looking for Silver. Grace found the poor woman hiding out in an intact ranch house in Springfield. Grace had already decided that she wanted to hear Silver’s side of the story, and once Grace heard the whole thing she told the woman to keep her caps and promised to tell Moriarty that Silver was already long gone.

Grace left the house with Silver’s thanks ringing in her ears. She’d just have to find another way to pay Moriarty. As Grace looked out onto the Wasteland her eyes fell upon the old elementary school building and thought about the raiders she’d seen. Grace had already been told several stories about what horrors raiders were capable of, and that a group had been trying to get into Megaton. These people could be the same. Grace began walking toward the school, deciding to check it out for herself.

Grace made her way to the crumbled side of the building. Before she knew what was happening one of the raiders spotted her and began shooting at her through an empty window, shouting something about showing Grace her insides. Grace was forced to gun him down along with the three other raiders he’d alerted with his manic shouting and entered the building through a large wooden door on the second floor.

The inside of the building was far worse than anything Grace had expected. Decapitated, mutilated corpses were strung up in macabre displays of brutality, some from ceilings, others on walls like grotesque displays of art. A few cages with bloody mattresses and littered with bones were located on the first floor.

The raiders themselves showed a kind of violence Grace hadn’t been fully prepared for, but Grace’s gun was better than anything they carried, and at the sight of those mangled corpses Grace had begun to see red. These weren’t people, they were feral beasts that needed to be put down. The computer stating their plans to break into Megaton was all the excuse she needed.

The raiders outnumbered her, but Grace was clever, using the many tight corners to her advantage. It didn’t take long before she was gunning down the last raider, a lump of cold fury hardening in her chest with each kill. Grace checked the tunnel to make sure that the raiders hadn’t made it very far before an idea struck her. She looted every single raider corpse in the place, took everything of value, and chained up all the entrances from the outside using a few padlocks she’d found in a ruined desk. She didn’t want to risk another group moving in so close to Megaton.

Grace was able to haul her admittedly too heavy pack back into Megaton shortly after sunset. She went straight to Craterside Supply, plopping most of her loot onto the counter, keeping only the ammo, the assault rifle she’d found in the ant tunnels and the hunting rifle the raider leader had been carrying for herself.

“How much for all of this?” Grace asked.

Moira took a moment to look everything over. “This is worth about 450 caps, but I can only pay you 300. How about I fix up those guns of yours and we call it even?”

“Throw in some .32s and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

*** 

Moriarty was slumming around in the saloon as expected. Grace managed to catch his attention almost immediately when she approached him.

“Silver was already gone,” Grace told him.

“Hm, shame,” Moriarty looked mildly irritated. “It’ll still be 100 caps for that information you were wanting.”

Grace just counted out the caps and handed them to Moriarty, giving him an expectant look.

“Your old man went into DC, to Galaxy News Radio. He wanted to know what’s been going on in the wasteland and figure the old DJ, Three Dog, could tell him.”

“Thanks,” Grace turned to walk toward the bar.

“Nice doing business with you, lassie,” Moriarty called after her.

Grace plopped down onto a stool at the bar and buried her face in her hands, trying to rub the images of the school out of her eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” a raspy voice asked her after a few moments. Grace looked up to see a very concerned-looking Gob.

Grace gave Gob a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Physically, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked sheepishly.

Grace rested her hand on the counter, forcing herself to relax. “Sure. Can I get some whisky and a stimpak?”

Gob grabbed Grace’s order and Grace handed him the caps as Gob settled in to cleaning the counter. “So, what happened?” he asked.

Grace downed her drink and pocketed her stimpak, all the while avoiding Gob’s eyes. “Well, it’s not like it’s news to anybody out here. I mean, everybody knows about raiders and shit. I guess I just wasn’t prepared? Though I don’t know if anyone can be prepared to see stuff like that.”

“Grace,” Gob spoke with trepidation. “You lost me. Can you take it a bit slower?”  
Grace took a deep breath and, after a moment, started again. “I went into the old Springfield Elementary School. There were raiders there and I didn’t like them being so close to Megaton. Figured I’d try to get them to leave or, well, you know. There were so many bodies, Gob. Mutilated and strung up like pieces of meat. It was horrible.”

“Yeah. Raiders do that,” Gob sounded sympathetic. “It’s never easy the first time you see something like that.”

Grace ordered another drink. “Hey, Gob, would you mind telling me more about Underworld?”

“Sure thing,” Gob said as he placed her whisky in front of her.


	4. Drawing Blood

Over the course of the next few days Grace pumped Gob, Billy, and Simms for information about the DC area, hoping that she’d be able to just run in and find her father. Her heart sank when her fears were confirmed, that DC was overrun with creatures called super mutants and feral ghouls, making the area too dangerous for even small groups of people to travel through. Grace, being a lone traveler, didn’t have much hope of getting far in DC unless she decked herself out in armor and fire power, and to do that she needed caps. Lots of them.

The Super-Duper Mart was Grace’s first stop in her quest for more caps. The raiders stationed at the front of the building along with a few strung up bodies were enough to help Grace mentally prepare for what she was going to see inside the old store. Grace was able to kill the raiders outside from afar with her new hunting rifle. She was grateful she picked it up. The kickback was a bitch, but the gun handled similarly to the BB gun Grace had learned to shoot with. The familiarity made the gun much easier to handle than the assault rifle she had.

Once inside Grace noted that the raiders were spread out thin throughout the building. She managed to kill a few of them from afar before they were any the wiser. She was impressed with the idea they had about turning the shelves into a walkway that let them look down into the aisles, but it made the lone raider up there easy to spot and shoot before he spotted her.  
Once Grace had cleared the front of the store she found a room near one of the entrances that held some food and ammunition, but no medical supplies. Grace wanted to check out the rest of the building before leaving, so she gathered up the food and ammo before moving on to the back of the store.

The rear of the building proved challenging. A more concentrated group of raiders was gathered there and once they spotted Grace all hell broke loose. These ones were better armed than the ones in Springfield Elementary, and were more aggressive, but were poorer shots. Grace took cover behind an old refrigerator unit and took pot shots at them whenever they popped their heads up or ran at her. Grace silently thanked her father for making sure she knew how to shoot a gun. She was no marksman, but she could hold her own against this group. However, the pharmacy was defensible. It took a while for Grace to kill the ones that took cover beyond the pharmacy counters.

Once it looked like all the raiders were dead, Grace stood and went to search the pharmacy, keeping her gun drawn. As she crossed the threshold into the pharmacy a straggler that Grace had thought dead got the jump on her, lunging at her from the left and brandishing a knife. Grace instinctively reached out with her left hand to catch his wrist, and instead caught the knife in her hand, causing the knife to stab right through her hand. Grace screamed in pain and rage and kicked the raider off her, leveling her rifle at his head and firing. Grace was miraculously still able to grip the gun with her damaged hand, but only weakly. The blood pouring from the wound made her hand slick and made holding the gun more difficult.

Grace quickly examined her hand and tried to bend or straighten her fingers. Neither her pinky nor her ring finger would bend fully or straighten, no matter how hard she tried. They were only able to bend or straighten partway. Grace cursed and fished a stimpak out of one of her pockets to apply to the wound. It wouldn’t fix the damaged tendons or ligaments, but it would at least stop the bleeding and prevent infection. She’d have to wait to treat her hand properly.

Grace didn’t find any other living raiders, but she did find more corpses mutilated by the raiders, weapons, ammo, and a sizeable cache in the back room of the pharmacy that contained junk, medical supplies, Nuka-Cola and Nuka-Cola Quantum.

Just as she was beginning to pack up her findings the intercom came on announcing the arrival of more raiders. Grace cursed again and looked at the protectron to her right. It was an armed security protectron. The perfect decoy. It took her no more than 30 seconds to hack into the protectron’s controls and get it booted up. Once its security program was running Grace allowed the bot to take the lead. As it left the pharmacy she followed at a distance, watching as the protectron attacked the raiders and drew their fire. Grace used the distraction to flank the raiders and sneak up behind them. Once the dust had cleared all that was left was Grace, a badly damaged protectron, a bunch of dead raiders, and an enormous stash of ammo and armor that Grace could sell for a nice profit..

***

Once Grace had checked in with Moira she went straight to the clinic to have the local doctor look at her hand. When she entered the clinic, a man was sitting at a desk doing paperwork in what must have been the waiting room. There were chairs set across from him and a doorway next to him that looked like it led to an examination/surgical room. The entire place was well lit and far cleaner than any other place Grace had been since leaving the Vault.

“You’d better have something wrong with you,” the man said, not looking up from his work “or you’d better go find someone else to bother. I don’t have time to just sit and chat.”

Grace took the man’s curt attitude in stride. The man was obviously busy, so she decided to get straight to the point. “Actually, I got stabbed through the hand and was wondering if the doctor could help me fix it. I’d do it myself, but it’s generally not a good idea to perform delicate surgical procedures on yourself.”

The man got up and gestured for her to show him her hand. He must have been that Doc Church Simms had mentioned. Grace obliged, holding her hand out to him palm up. Doc Church took it and began examining it. An angry red scar hand formed toward the outer edge of her hand where the knife had gone through, between the metacarpal bones.

“The knife went between the fourth and fifth metacarpals and now I can’t flex or extend my ring or pinky fingers fully. I’m guessing the proximal transverse ligament and some of the tendons have been damaged, but I didn’t get to see for certain,” Grace said, using the actual medical terminology to show the doctor that she knew what she was talking about.

He just nodded and turned her hand over. “You used a stimpak.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. I didn’t really have the time for any other treatment,” Grace confirmed sheepishly.

The man dropped her hand and gestured toward the door leading to the examination room. “C’mon. I’ll need a better look at your hand to know what I’m dealing with,” he said, heading through the door. Grace followed and sat on the examination table he gestured too. Behind Grace was the surgical table with a stand and surgical tray next to it and a doorway to a room with several beds that must have been a recovery room. In front of her was a stool set of wheels for the doctor and a myriad of medical equipment meant for various uses and in various states of repair. The doctor pulled forward a derelict mini-MRI machine and placed her damaged hand inside, turning it on.

“So, how’d you get this nasty piece of work?” Church asked as he began examining the screen displaying the inside of Grace’s hand.

“A raider got the jump on me,” Grace shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the screen.

Church raised his eyebrow at her. “Your hand is going to need surgery if you want to get use of your ring and pinky fingers back. I also recommend some physical therapy exercises. I can show you a few techniques that you can do on your own. Even then they may never work quite right again.”

Grace sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much. Can you do the surgery soon?”

“I can do it now if you’re okay with not being put completely under.”

“Do it,” Grace said with conviction.

The doctor just nodded and gestured for her to go and lie on the surgical table behind her. While Grace went to lie down Church pulled out a medical bag from under the table and began laying out the chems and tools he’d need on the surgical tray. He used jet to put her halfway under and used med-X as a local anesthetic.

As he worked on her hand Grace talked shop with the doctor, trying to distract herself so that she didn’t have to look at her flayed left hand. She asked him questions about how he worked around supply shortages and old equipment, what he would substitute or find workarounds for. She somehow got him to talk a bit about the townsfolk, or Leo Stahl’s addiction to jet to be precise. At some point in the haze Grace promised to talk to the young man. Church just gave her a skeptical look as he led her to a bed in the back to sleep off the effect of the chems.

***

When Grace woke up Doc Church was sorting through his supplies in the next room. He had put her in the makeshift recovery room with several decent beds in it. The room was otherwise empty except for her. Grace looked at her left hand and saw that it was bound, with her middle, ring, and pinky fingers wrapped so that they would have to bend together.

When Grace sat up and put her feet on the floor Church seemed to hear, dropping whatever he was doing walking into the room.

“You’re awake.” He said it as more of a statement than a question.

“I am. What’s the verdict?”

“The surgery went fine. No complications, and it looks like the ligaments in your hand took the brunt of the damage. However, a wound like that usually takes a few weeks to heal and some cases take multiple surgeries. Even then some people never regain the full use of their hand. But you’re young so you might just make a full recovery. However, you need to give your hand time to heal. I want you to stay in town for the next week and give that hand of yours a rest. I’m sure you can find odd jobs in town to make ends meet in the meantime. At the end of the week I want you to come back here so I can examine your hand again and see if you’re going to need further surgeries or if you’re ready for the next stage of treatment. I also want you to come and see me immediately if your hand becomes prone to falling asleep. That could be a sign of damaged blood vessel. Understood?”

Grace couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She knew that kind of damage could take a long time to heal, but a part of her had hoped that she might be one of the cases that got lucky. She nodded. “I understand. What do I owe you?”

“250 caps and we’ll call it even.”

She followed the doctor to the front desk and paid him. She made sure to thank him as she left. Church just responded with a nod and went back to work.


	5. Stir Crazy

Butch found Amata hiding out in the old classroom not long after things had quieted down. He’d needed to get away from his mother for a while. He was furious with her and needed to cool off. Ellen Deloria had accused Grace of being violent and a disaster just waiting to happen and even went so far as to say that she and her father were a mistake. Grace and James had been goddamn model citizens for as long as Butch could remember, so he wasn’t buying it.

He needed space, so he snuck around the hallways, avoiding security and other people whenever he could. At one point, he overheard two people talking in the old classroom in hushed voices, a man and a woman by the sounds of it. He couldn’t make out the voices or what they were saying, so he quietly approached the door and listened in.

“He was going to torture me for information. She probably overheard and acted without thinking. It wasn’t her fault! Stevie was a sadist! He’s the one that killed Jonas! He got what he deserved!” the woman spoke in a kind of shouting whisper. She sounded hysterical.

“Maybe, but not everyone in the vault will see it that way,” the man spoke more calmly and more clearly. It was Mr. Brotch. “A lot of people never really trusted James or Grace just because they weren’t from the Vault. Those people will only see all that’s happened as proof that they were right.”

“That’s such a load of bullshit! They were perfect citizens. Hell, Grace never even swung at Butch unless he swung first!” That had to be the princes herself.

“I know she was a good kid. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that she killed two people. No one will care whether she was justified. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Vault can’t stay closed anymore. Too much has happened. We can’t just go back to the way things were.”

Butch chose that moment to swagger into the room, hands raised in a symbol of peace. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were planning, but he’d heard enough to know he wanted in on that action. “Hey, hey, hey, woah! You guys plannin’ on gettin; outta the Vault? ‘Cause I want in.”

Amata and Mr. Broth froze staring at Butch before Amata fixed him with a distrustful glare. 

“What do you want, Butch?” Amata asked sharply.

Butch was immediately irritated by Amata’s outburst. “I’m sick of starin’ at the same four walls. I want outta here. But the Overseer ain’t gonna make it easy on any of us. If you guys are serious about getting’ through that door you’re gonna need the Tunnel Snakes.”

Amata raised an eyebrow, still glaring at him. “And why should we trust you?”

Butch had the good grace to look insulted before Amata continued.

“I know you’ve been in my dad’s back pocket for years. You act like you hate him, but you still accept jobs from him. How do I know you aren’t a spy?”

Butch paused, then sighed and looked away before answering. “Look, I wanna help. I owe Grace. And like I said, I want out of this hellhole. Plus, I do actually kinda hate your dad. No offense.”

“What did Grace do to make the leader of the Tunnel Snakes ‘owe her’?” It was Brotch’s turn to ask questions.

Butch shrugged. “She saved my ma’s life. I made her a Tunnel Snake. Tunnel Snakes stick together,” Butch gave them a steady look, daring them to challenge what he told them.

Amata and Brotch exchanged looks before looking back at Butch. They must have come to some sort of silent agreement, because Amata opened her mouth and told Butch everything that she knew.

***

What Butch told them of the events of the day Grace left seemed far-fetched at first, until Amata confirmed everything.

Butch had called a Tunnel Snakes meeting to fill everyone in and decide what they were going to do. Paul was dead, still laying in the clinic with no one to attend to his wounds, and the vault was in shambles. Wally, Freddie, and Butch were now all that was left of the Tunnel Snakes, and all had come to attend the gang meeting. The three of them had met in a secluded area of the reactor level, near a makeshift firing range that someone had set up in secret, and where Amata had waited for them. The four stood close to each other and talked in hushed voices.

“Get to the point, Butch,” Wally demanded after hearing Amata’s version of events, clearly unimpressed.

Butch paused before answering. “I want to show the Overseer what for. I want him to pay! It’s his fault Paul’s dead! If he didn’t kill Jonas and drive Grace away he’d still be alive right now!”

“And if it weren’t for Grace, Stevie would still be alive!” Wally fumed.

“And if it weren’t for Grace my ma would be dead!” Butch retorted.

Freddie watched to two other gang members fight silently, unsure what he should do. They were both right. If Grace hadn’t acted, Butch’s mom would have died from the radroachs’ attack, but if she hadn’t stepped in to protect Amata, then Steve Mack would still be alive.

“My brother at least mattered! Your ma doesn’t do shit! She’s just some alcoholic bitch, a good-for-nothing waste of rations and air. Just. Like. You!” Wally said, practically spitting in Butch’s face.

Butch shouted wordlessly and punched Wally in the jaw. Hard. Wally was flung into the wall behind him with a loud thud, which he then used to wall to regain his balance, cradling his jaw in one hand. Wally looked up and his eyes seared into Butch for a second before he launched himself at Butch. The two young men toppled to the ground, punching and kicking each other violently. Freddie and Amata just stood there and watched, unsure of what they should do and afraid to get in between Butch and Wally.

Butch managed to kick Wally off and back into the same wall. Butch regained his footing and launched himself back at Wally just as Wally got back onto his own feet. Butch wailed on Wally until Freddie finally snapped out of it and pulled Butch off. Butch struggled against Freddie’s grip while Wally glared death at them both.

After a moment Wally made a disgusted noise and began ripping his Tunnel Snakes jacket off. He threw it down at Butch’s feet and stormed off without a word.

“Traitor!” Butch shouted after him. “You fuckin’ selfish traitor!”

Wally just kept walking.

Once Wally was out of sight Butch stopped struggling. Freddie let Butch go gently. Freddie was afraid the wrong move would turn Butch’s fury on him, but Butch just picked up Wally’s jacket and tucked it under his arm.

“C’mon, Freddie. Let’s get out of here.” There was still a hint of rage in Butch’s voice, but it was subdued.

As they left the reactor level Butch stopped to toss Wally’s jacket into the incinerator. Neither of them said anything as they walked out.

***

Grace spent the week she was supposed to be healing working odd jobs around town, tinkering with whatever she could get ahold of, or helping out the town’s residents. During the first few days she helped Leo Stahl kick his chem habit and fixed the leaks to the water purifier for Walter. Then she spent the next few days tinkering with Wadsworth’s programming to make him more energy efficient, give him better reaction time, and let him speak more freely. In the mornings and afternoons, she’d watch the sun rise and set as best she could from inside the walls of Megaton. The old woman Manya joined her after the second day and they started trading stories about their respective pasts and bonding over their similar witty senses of humor. In the evenings, she would spend her time either watching the stars or hanging out around Moriarty’s saloon in a somewhat misguided attempt to keep the worst people off Gob’s back. It didn’t always work, since Grace was somewhat small and about as threatening as an angry puppy, but Gob seemed to appreciate it anyway.

Even with all this going on, Grace still didn’t have enough to keep her from going a little mad with boredom. In the vault, Grace had always had a million and one things to do. Between learning all she could about computer programming, studying medicine under her father, reading every book in the vault, keeping up with her schoolwork and, after she turned 18, keeping up with her job, she’d always kept herself busy. Now, injured and on the surface, she only had two books, a single robot, and the community to keep her busy while she healed.

To keep herself busy and help exercise her injured hand she took to taking apart her guns, cleaning them, and putting them back together again, or talking to the caravan traders about what she’d find outside megaton. Hell, on the fifth day she even got herself critical rad poisoning for Manya's crazy experiment. Sometimes she wondered how everyone was faring inside the vault.

At the end of the week when Doc Church gave her the go-ahead to get back to work, she immediately planned a course for Arefu. She felt bad about holding off on Lucy’s letter and it was time to make up for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay for this chapter. Life got a bit crazy for a bit there. Should get back to posting every few weeks again.


	6. Always Keep an Open Mind

Grace packed the night after Church gave her the all-clear and set out the next morning. The plan was to go to Arefu, deliver Lucy’s letter, then set off toward Minefield for Moira’s next experiment. She hadn’t run into any serious trouble heading toward the Super-Duper Mart for Moira’s first experiment, so she didn’t expect much heading toward Arefu. So, rather than follow Lucy’s directions, Grace set her pipboy to lead her straight toward Arefu, hoping to make up for lost time.

What Grace didn’t realize was that the trip to Arefu would take the better part of a day either way and that her legs weren’t ready to take that kind of journey. Being stuck in a vault all her life hadn’t done her marathoning abilities any favors.

For the first few miles Grace managed to avoid most kinds of trouble. All that bothered her was a few feral dogs that she shot dead at a distance. Grace tried to collect what meat she could from the corpses, putting some of that medical knowledge to good use to make up for her lack of hunting know-how, and carried on.

Grace found herself in more trouble when she stumbled across some old bed and breakfast that was swarming with raiders, who’d set up an ambush at a nearby bridge. One of the good things for Grace was she’d managed to approach from the wrong side and avoid the ambush, the bad thing was the ensuing fight still earned her some burns and a few bullet holes in the meat of her shoulder and leg. Nothing a stimpak couldn’t fix, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of stims, or ammo, to spare.

Still, once all the traps were disarmed the site made a good camping spot for her to rest up so she could finish her journey to Arefu.

***

Grace found Arefu in a bad state.

The settlement’s de facto sheriff, Evan King, almost blew her up as she approached him. Then he promptly asked her to check on the three remaining households in the near-abandoned settlement. The Ewers were fine, though Brailee Ewers was dangerously delusional and her husband seemed beyond frustrated. Karen Schenzy lived alone, and, beyond being frightened and angry, was no worse for wear.

And then there was her goal, the West household.

The entire house was a mess. It seemed like everything that wasn’t bolted down had been thrown or knocked over. Pots, pans, cans, and all manner of other debris lined the floor. A bunkbed leaned in front of the doorway at an odd angle, like it had originally belonged against one of the walls but had been turned to block the door, A cabinet leaned against the wall behind it as though something had pushed against it, and on the large, queen-sized bed lay two dead bodies, a man and a woman. Grace approached to examine them, and saw that there were gashes in their necks, the most likely the cause of death. What was strange is that they looked like bite marks. From human teeth. And there was no blood anywhere. There wasn’t even any splatter on the floor or bed.

Grace went cold and backed a step away from the bodies. As she did so she happened to glance up. On the wall above the bed two words, “The Family”, were written in what looked like dried blood.

Who in bloody hell were The Family?

Evan King seemed spooked by what Grace told him, but wouldn’t say why, so Grace just told him to point her in the right direction and went on her way.

Grace decided to go to the Northwest Seneca Station first, since it was closest. She made it to the derelict station square without meeting any resistance and crept into the tunnels, where she met two ghouls, Barrett, who refused to speak to her in anything but threats, and Murphy, who questioned her as to why she was there in the first place. When it turned out Grace wholeheartedly supported his research (jet that worked better on ghouls would make surgeries less traumatic for them, since jet was often used as an anesthetic) he was more than happy to offer her caps for any Sugar Bombs she brought him. He also told her about the sewers and showed the tunnel where she should continue her search. Grace thanked him and followed the lead Murphy had given her.

In the tunnels, she found her first mirelurks. They hit hard and left her with a few nasty bruises, But Grace managed to climb up onto a rock structure out of reach and took potshots at the fiends from there. Once they were dead, Grace continued into the cave system, right into the subway tunnels.

Grace set off a tripwire trap as she was climbing up the slope that lead into the subway tunnels and nearly got herself blown to pieces by the grenade bouquet it set off. She got far enough away before they blew, but a split second slower and she’d probably be missing a leg. From that point on she carefully watched the ground at her feet and found bear traps, frag mines, and tripwires practically lining the floors of the subway tunnel she found herself in, buried in trash and dead mirelurks.

A little way into the tunnel it split into two paths. Straight ahead of her was dark and empty, but to her left she heard a faint radio playing. She decided to follow the noise, carefully watching where she stepped. She had to weave her way between two demolished subway cars and two sets of tripwires, both of which she carefully disarmed, and came out the other side to find a few burning barrels, two walls made of sandbags, and an angry-looking bearded man aiming a pistol at her. Grace quickly put up her hands and stopped moving once she saw him.

“Stop right there. This area is off-limits to anyone but the Family. Where do you think you’re going?” The man demanded.

Grace cleared her throat. “I’m looking for Ian West. I have a letter for him from his sister.”

The man looked at Grace for a moment before answering. “Okay. You look harmless enough. If I were you, though, I’d speak to Vance before you poke around too much. You’ll find him on the mezzanine overlooking the common area.”

Grace slowly lowered her hands at the sudden turn. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Can I get your name?”

“Robert.”

“Thanks, Robert.”

Robert nodded to her as she passed and watched her with sharp eyes as she walked through the gate to his little living space, through there, and out of sight.

Grace entered another tunnel with a dead end and a smaller offshoot with a few steps leading up to a door. Grace passed through the door and found herself in another tunnel that lead to a large chamber to her right. The chamber was brighter than the rest of the tunnels she’d been in thus far. She approached it cautiously, but left her weapons holstered. No need to provoke them before she knew what they were about.

Grace entered the large room and was taken aback. To the left and right were sets of benches arranged like pews in a church, with lanterns hanging on the ends. Between them was a long table surrounded by chairs and covered in plates and silverware. Along the walls stood shelving units, a few desks with computers, and a few more sitting areas, all lit with more lanterns. The left corner of the room was fenced off and contained a bunch of supplies. Above it all was a huge platform, the mezzanine. It’s railing was lined with string lights and seemed to hold a few walled-off areas, though Grace couldn’t see what for. She honestly loved it.

There were a few people sitting around and chatting, two young men and a woman. Above them on the mezzanine were two more figures, a man and a woman, standing and looking over the common area. The people didn’t seem at all threatened by her as she entered the chamber, so she approached the non-functional escalators and climbed up to greet the two figures, figuring one of them must be Vance.

Before Grace could get a ‘hello’ out, the man who must be Vance began speaking. “Welcome to our home.” He spoke with a cold but courteous voice. “My people call me Vance. I lead this group of weary wanderers and outcasts who call this place home. Who might You be? And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Grace blinked at him. She’d never heard someone talk like he did before, only read it. “My name is Grace Moreno.” She glanced around pointedly, hesitant to tell him why she was there. “This place is very different from the other settlements I’ve seen.”

“What you see is the last bastion of hope for the downtrodden and misunderstood.” Lofty. Possibly a bit presumptuous. “It is a sanctuary for the oppressed and a beacon of faith for the tyrannized.” And likes to talk. “We are the remnants of society, cast aside like the clean-picked bones of the hunter’s feast. I lead my flock beneath the sunbaked sands of the Wasteland to keep them safe and teach them my ways.” Christ, he talks like a preacher. “Men of science would call us cannibals, eaters of human flesh. Society calls us monsters, demons, and the unclean.” He stopped, waiting for her response.

“If you aren’t cannibals, then what are you?”

“That is the right question.” Vance almost looked pleased. “But before I answer, you must learn our laws. Then you may fully understand what we are. To find what you seek you may speak to the members of my flock, or read them on one of the computer terminals below.” And he turned away from her.

Sensing the conversation was over, Grace turned and Looked around. She decided it might be better to get to know the people and began asking around. She started with Holly, the woman who had been standing with Vance when Grace entered the room. Holly asked what Grace’s business was, encouraged her to have an open mind, and gave Grace the first law, “Feast not on the flesh; consume only the blood. This is our strength”. Grace then walked back down into the common area and spoke to the people there. Brianne spoke, teasing, and gave Grace the second law, “Bear not the child; welcome only the exile. This is our fate.” Adam, one of the young men, spoke disdainfully and gave the third law, “Feed not for pleasure; partake only to nourish. This is our dignity.” Justin was barely out of his teens, spoke nervously, and gave the fourth law, “Seek not the sun’s light; embrace only the shadows. This is our refuge.” Finally, Karl, the storekeeper who spoke to Grace like she was an inconvenience, gave the fifth law, “Kill not our kindred; slay only the enemy. This is our justice.”

Grace immediately knew what these people were once she heard the first law, the others only confirmed her suspicions, but she felt it was necessary to hear them all. Once she heard them she knew she couldn’t approach Vance with any hint of fear or contempt. She had the sneaking suspicion that he thought non-mutated humans couldn’t be trusted, and giving him any hint he was right would only work against her.

After mulling it over for a but she approached Vance again.

“I’ve spoken with your people and have heard your laws.”

Vance finally looked back at her. “I see. And what do you make of our laws?”

“You’re vampires, sort of. You follow their fictional traditions and drink blood, but I don’t expect you turn into bats.” Grace tried to speak like Vance to make him more comfortable with her.

Vance gave a small chuckle. “Of course not. And do I cast an image in a mirror? Absolutely. Now ask me if I believe these individual from all over the Wasteland need me to give them a sense of purpose and identity.” Vance stood a but straighter. “I have shown these people the ways of the vampire. I’ve given them shelter, organization, and a sense of belonging.”

“But why are you teaching them that they’re mythical beings?”

“Now you disappoint me. You need to keep an open mind and think a moment before you pass judgements. I have reigned in their cravings and taught them not to eat of the flesh, but to drink of the blood. Most importantly, here they have a family. A place where their quirks are tolerated and understood.”

Grace pondered this a moment. “I understand and I support what you’re doing here. I just don’t necessarily agree with the methods. The sense of community these people have is the most important thing you’re doing here, and the laws you’ve set up have the potential to guide generations, but the vampire angle may be dangerous in the long run.”

Vance looked pleased. “I understand your reservations. I must admit, I worried that the first time a human happened upon our home it would be for the purpose of our extermination. I now see my fears were misplaced. It is a pleasant surprise to meet someone as amenable as yourself. But I know you came here for a reason. What might that reason be?” Vance raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Grace flexed her healing left hand. “I’m looking for Ian West.

“Ah. My newest charge. What would you want with him?”

“I have a letter for him from his sister.”

“I see. Then a part of his human family still remains? Even more of a reason he needs to remain in isolation. Ian is at a critical moment in his life right now. After all that occurred in Arefu he is scared and confused. It would be ill advised to allow you to speak with him while he decided what he wants.”

Grace became alarmed. “Wait, what happened to him?”

Vance looked sad at this. “Ian’s hunger for flesh overwhelmed him… and it drove him to kill his parents. Because of our intervention that night he stopped just short of being forever lost to his cravings for flesh.”

Grace went quiet. “I see.” Ian was a cannibal, or was at least a mutant that may become a cannibal.

“He will no longer be labelled as a cannibal. He has become one of us… a member of the Family.” Vance looked determined. “The hunger that drives us must be kept in check. It is one of the most difficult things to teach. Ian lost control because there was no one around to guide him. His own family was alien to him.”

“Please, let me at least give him this letter. He should have all the information we can give him before he decides what he needs to decide. So he can make the best decision for himself.”

Vance sighed sadly. “Very well. I will allow you to speak to Ian. Perhaps you can help him come to grips with his greatest enemy, himself. The password for the terminal is Vespertilio.”

“Thank you,” Grace gave Vance a respectful nod before hurrying past him before he could change his mind.

She went through the tunnel behind Vance, past the turnstiles, and to a locked door with a computer terminal on the wall next to it. She entered the password, unlocked the door, and entered the room.

Inside the room was a small table with a glass pitcher filled with water on it, a single chair, a small bed, and a door leading to a bathroom. Both ends of the tunnel were blocked off with rubble, making the area into a large room. A teenager of no more than 15 sat with his head in his hands at the table. When he heard the door open he looked up at Grace, but with eyes hollow with grief.

Grace approached him slowly, and stopped a few feet from him. “Ian West?”

“What do you want?” Ian refused to make eye contact.

“I’m Grace. I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m sure Evan King is pretty pissed right now. I bet he’s got the entire town out looking for me,” Ian said morosely. “He’s worse than my parents,” He muttered.

“I’m sorry, Ian.”

Ian looked a little surprised. “For what?”

“For what happened. It’s hard to lose a parent, let alone two in the same night.”

“You don’t understand. It was me. I killed them!” Ian looked like he was torturing himself over what happened.

“I know. Vance told me what happened.”

Ian looked surprised. “You are mad? Disgusted? You must think I’m some kind of monster.”

“I don’t,” Grace put a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Look, Ian, I know loss. I know it hurts, how it makes you feel like you have no direction, no purpose. But staying here isn’t the answer.”

Ian finally seemed to look Grace in the eye. “I’m messed up, Grace. There’s something inside me. I can’t go back. I have nowhere else to go,” Ian became angry and stood up, shaking off Grace’s hand. “I’m a mutant, a fucking freak! The only person I could ever talk to was Lucy, and now she’s gone!”

Grace turned to pull Lucy’s letter from her pack. “Ian, look, this is a letter from Lucy. You should read it.”

Ian took the letter from Grace slowly, like he was scared it would bite, and opened it. As he read it he sat back down.

“She… she misses being home. And she’s asked about me in here a lot!” Ian paused and looked back at Grace, still clutching the letter like he was holding on for dear life. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I bet Lucy id feeling just as bad as I am. She needs me.” Ian looked back at the letter. “Please, tell Vance my decision. I’m going home.”

“Sure thing. I need to speak to him anyway. Want to meet me in the common area? We can head back together.”

Ian looked back at her again. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to on the way.”

“Okay. I’ll pack up and meet you there.”

Grace smiled and nodded at Ian and left.

Once she was out of the meditation room she made a beeline for Vance.

“I trust your talk with young Ian went well,” Vance said as he puffed a cigarette. “I am quite interested in hearing about the results of your discussion. Has he come to a decision?”

“He has. But before I talk about Ian, there is the matter of Arefu to discuss...”

“As long as you maintain this level of civility, please proceed.”

“There must be an alternative source of blood you can use. What about bloodpacks?”

Vance put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Curious. Many years ago, I survived by drinking preserved bloodpacks I recovered from hospital ruins. The problem was that these bloodpacks were scarce. What do you propose?”

“Arefu donates bloodpacks, and in exchange the Family protects Arefu.”

Vance pondered this for a moment before responding. “Agreed. Please take this proposal to Arefu. Speak with them and return to me with their decision. Now what of young Ian?”

“Ian has decided to leave the Family.”

“It saddens me to lose on of my flock, but I believe everyone has to follow their own path. All I was attempting to do was guide him. Now it seems that responsibility had fallen to you. I hope you will be more successful.” Vance reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of blue paper. “Please, I want you to take this. Consider it as an apology for the hardships you had to endure to find this place.” The paper showed the schematics to a weapon called a shishkebab. “Farewell, human. Our time together has been rather… educational.”

Grace thanked Vance and went down into the common area. There she found Ian chatting with Justin, so she decided to give the two some space and went to sell some of what she had to Karl, making a pretty pile of caps in the process. Once that was done Ian had said his goodbyes and the two set off for Arefu the way Grace had come.

***

Once they got to Arefu, Evan King began fussing over Ian, or he would have if Grace hadn’t gotten in the way.

“Let him have some space. He’s had a hard few days, he needs it. Anyway, I have a proposal for you.” Grace told King.

“Oh?” The old man seemed at a loss.

“The Family is offering the settlement their protection in exchange for donated blood packs.”

It didn’t take long for King to come to a decision. “Yes. This is acceptable. Will you tell them?”

“I’ll give them the message.” Grace promised.

“We don’t have a lot, but here, take this as a thank you for all you’ve done for us.” King handed her a bottle of scotch.

“Thanks,” Grace stashed the bottle in her pack. “I’ll see you around.”

Once Grace had checked in with all of the town’s other residents she found Ian standing just outside his family’s house. Grace approached to stand beside him and offer some comradery when a gust of wind suddenly blew past them.

“Oh! Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Grace remarked absently while she tried to get the loose strand of hair whipping around her head under control.

Ian looked at her confused. “Used to what?”

“The wind,” Grace began pulling out a few bobbi pins. Ian looked at her like she’d grown a second head, so Grace elaborated. “I grew up in a vault. Just left a little over a week ago. There isn’t much wind underground.”

“You serious?”

“Deadly,” Grace smirked at him and, finally successful in wrangling her hair back into place, clapped him on the back. “You gonna be okay?”

Ian looked back at his house. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright. Well, if you need anything, I should be back in a few days. If you write a letter, I’ll bring it to your sister if you’d like.”

Ian gave Grace a sad smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. And thanks, for everything.”

Grace just flashed him another grin and turned to leave. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Grace returned to Meresti with the good news. Vance was happy with the results and immediately sent Alan to cover the Family’s end of the deal. Then Grace promptly asked him to teach her some of the ways of the vampire, and what the best way to get to minefield was from there.


	7. Almost Ready

Grace spent the night in Meresti and traveled to Minefield in the morning.

Minefield was easy enough to get to. A straight course from the Meresti trainyard to Minefield contained little more than open wastes, a few houses, and an overpass to get through. Once Grace made it to Minefield, she saw that it was an abandoned settlement, with a few well-preserved houses and sturdy walls on three sides. Some of the buildings were collapsed and hollow, and there were nonfunctional cars scattered about, but it wasn’t a bad setup at all. So where had everyone gone? And why had no one settled the area again?

The answer to that second question became quickly apparent. The abandoned town was a goddamn deathtrap. It had so many frag mines scattered about it felt like she was running into one every few feet. One upside, though, was that she was getting better and quicker at disarming the mines. One wire quickly pulled from the base of the bomb was all it took. She just had to make sure she was fast enough and try to spot the mine before she set it off. For any mine she failed to spot she had to backtrack as fast as she could to a safe distance. There could be no running in any random direction, she’d probably just set off another mine and end up getting hurt.

On top of that, there turned out to be a sniper camped out in the tallest standing “building” in the abandoned town, a huge concrete structure that no longer had any walls or ceiling and was half collapsed into a huge pile of rubble. The sniper kept shooting at any of the cars that Grace got anywhere near, causing them to explode and forcing Grace to backtrack again and again. It felt like for every two steps forward she was forced to take one step back.

The going was slow, but Grace eventually made it to the base of the concrete structure by darting between cover as fast as she could. She found a few more mines inside the structure and tried to quickly disarm them. There was a stairway leading up in the back righthand corner of the ground level of the building, and Grace was approaching the mine near the base of the stairs when she heard a wordless shout. An old man, the sniper, was rushing down the stairs toward her and taking aim at her with his sniper rifle. Grace forgot the mine and bolted forward, causing it to start its countdown. At the same time, she drew her assault rifle and pointed the barrel toward the man, not bothering to take aim just yet. The man shot at her and missed, being too close and not expecting how quickly she moved. As he tried to get his rifle ready to take another shot, Grace ran into the wall at the base of the stairs shoulder first, so that she was facing the stairs and able to aim her gun, while being far enough away from the mine to be safe. She pulled the trigger as he turned and aimed at her, peppering his chest with bullets. As he fell the mine blew, sending dirt and debris flying around them both.

Grace rushed toward the body, took the gun, and checked to make sure he was dead. She began looting the body and the building and found a key in the man’s pocket that happened to open the doors to all the buildings in the town.

Grace looted every building and collected every mine she could, losing only a handful to not seeing them. With her pack nearly overladen with frag mines and various loot from the abandoned houses, Grace left the town the way she came.

To the southeast she spotted a concrete structure, and decided that, since it was so close, and her pack still had a little space in it, she might as well check it out. If it looked like there was too much for her to handle/carry, she’d just head back to Arefu. If not, who knows.

As she came close she dropped into a crouch, climbing a small hill and looking over the edge of a wall cut into the hill. She found that the concrete structure was some sort of scrapyard, filled with long broken down and abandoned vehicles of all types. There even looked like there were a few one-man planes scattered about.

The place looked empty, and Grace spotted a hole in the fence to her left, so she went around and entered the scrapyard from there. As she did so she heard shouting and gunshots to her left. Throwing cautions to the wind, Grace ran toward the commotion. She took cover behind a stack of cars and peeked around to see what was going on. There were two bodies strewn on the ground. One looked to be a wastelander, the other a raider. Two other raiders, one wielding a pistol, the other a pool cue, were attacking a dog. Grace took this all in in a split second and raised her rifle at the raiders. While she took down the raider with the pistol, the dog went at the throat of the other raider. The raider under the dog gave out a strangled scream for a moment, before a violent snap rang out and he went silent.

Once the dog seemed satisfied that the raider was indeed dead, it dropped his neck and looked up at Grace. Grace came out of cover and stood, unsure of what to make of the dog. It wasn’t attacking her, which was new, and just looked at her with sad eyes and a muzzle covered in raider blood. It slowly walked toward her, sat a few feet away, and began whining. Grace lowered her gun and shifted it into her right hand.

“Hey, buddy,” Grace began cautiously, flexing her left hand. She took a quick look at the dead wastelander before resuming eye contact with the dog. “You lose you master?”

The dog whined again.

Grace took a careful step forward and kneeled in front of the dog. She was close enough that she could reach out and touch it.

“I’m sorry. I know how you feel.”

Cue more whining and sad eyes from the dog.

“Can I pet you? I’ve never pet a dog before,” Grace felt kind of crazy talking to the dog, but it also felt kind of right. It almost seemed to understand what she was saying.

The dog sat and began panting. She took this as her answer and carefully reached a hand toward the dog. She ran her fingers through the hair on top of the dog’s head, careful not to touch the blood on its muzzle. Its fur was surprisingly soft, and the dog leaned into her touch.

“Heh. You’re pretty friendly, aren’t you?”

The dog just kept panting.

“Do you want to come with me? It’s dangerous out here all alone.”

The dog chuffed and stood, as if to say yes.

Grace smiled. “Hey, are you thirsty?”

The dog barked again. Grace looked around for something to use as a bowl and found an old hubcap. She put the hubcap in front of the dog and filled it with some of her purified water. She was running low, but she had no idea when the dog had last had a drink and decided the risk was worth it. The dog greedily lapped up the water. Grace took the moment as an opportunity to look for a name on the dog’s collar. The word “Dogmeat” had been carved into the collar with some sort of blade.

She decided to test it out. “Dogmeat?”

The dog looked up at her expectantly.

“Okay. A bit morbid, but I’ll take it.”

When the dog saw she didn’t want anything from it, it went right back to drinking.

Grace then decided to check its gender and found that the dog was a boy. Satisfied with this she decided to leave Dogmeat to his devices and checked the bodies for anything worth taking. She found some dirty water on the wastelander, a few weapons, and some armor, and suddenly her pack was about as full as she could get it without becoming too weighed down.

She checked and saw that the dog was finished and had licked his muzzle clean of any blood. He was sitting and looking at her expectantly.

“You ready, boy?”

The dog stood and barked once, shifting his weight on his front paws excitedly. Grace smiled and pet the dog affectionately before walking past him.

“C’mon, Dogmeat. Let’s go,” she said.

The dog turned and followed her out of the scrapyard and toward Arefu.

***

The trip back to Arefu was easy, since Grace followed the path she’d come from. It was a huge help that the dog was capable of spotting trouble from miles. He always alerted her with a soft growl and a muzzle pointed in the direction of the danger, allowing Grace to spot it and decide a good course of action. The only trouble they ran into was a pack of feral dogs and another pack of mole rats, both of which were taken down easily with Grace’s hunting rifle and Dogmeat’s strength and jaws. It was clear that his previous master had taken good care of him, since Dogmeat was bigger, faster, and stronger than any of the feral dogs they encountered.

Grace was glad that he had been well taken care of. He was a good dog.

When they made it to Arefu, Crazy Wolfgang’s caravan had already set up and waiting to trade. Grace Traded practically everything she had gathered for another nice pile of caps, all but a single frag mine she planned to give to Moira.

Once that was done, the sun was beginning to set again and Grace realized she hadn’t slept for the better part of two days. She headed into Arefu to pay Ian the visit she promised. Ian was glad to see her and, seeing the state she was in, offered her a place to crash for the night. Grace gratefully accepted his offer and offered to cook some food in exchange for the hospitality. She introduced Ian to Dogmeat and insisted he pet the dog while she cooked a can of Pork and Beans and some Instamash to share.

Ian sat on his parents’ former bed and smiled as he pet the dog, though the grief was still apparent in his eyes. Grace decided to provide a welcome distraction.

“So, what was it like growing up here?” Grace asked him.

“It was alright. There used to be more people here, but the only kids were me and Lucy. We didn’t really have anyone else to play with.”

“So no school, I take it?”

“Nah. Our parents taught us everything we needed to know, like how to read and write and do math. It’s just a bit stifling to only know about twenty people, you know?”

“Kinda,” Grace answered.

“What about the vault you’re from? What was that like?”

“A bit similar. There were more people, about eight kids and about… thirty? Fourty adults? So not a lot of us. Everything was always so quiet. It was a lot safer, but it could get boring if you weren’t very good at finding things to do. Or maybe that was just me,” Grace answered.

“At least you had a lot of other kids to play with,” Ian offered. He was scratching Dogmeat’s back and the hound was loving the attention.

“Actually, I only had one friend. Most of the other kids either hated me or ignored me. I got along okay with half of the adults, but you know how they can get sometimes,” Grace offered Ian a half smile.

Ian gave Grace a sad look. “Why didn’t the other kids like you? You seem cool enough. For a grown-up, at least,” he punctuated that last comment with a halfhearted smirk.

Grace laughed and shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe they were jealous of how awesome I am.”

Ian scoffed but gave a good-natured grin.

Grace checked the temperature of the Pork and Beans and decided they were still a bit too cold. “So, what’s it like having a big sister?”

Ian shrugged. “Lucy and I were always close. I could always talk to her about anything. We always had each other’s back, kept each other’s secrets and got into a lot of trouble together.” Ian stopped petting Dogmeat and leaned back. “I really miss her.”

“I’m sorry. She seemed to miss you too.”

Ian stared up at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again. “So, what did you do to pass the time?”

“Oh, lots of things. I read a lot of books, hacked a lot of computers, broke into a lot of rooms I wasn’t supposed to be in. I even hacked the Vault’s Mr. Handy to talk in with accents a few times. My favorite was having him talk like a cowboy, though.” Grace looked off into the distance with a serious face. “My only regret is never making him a pirate accent. That would have been amazing.”

Ian grinned. “Kinda wish I could see that.”

“Maybe if you visit Megaton I’ll give it a try on Wadsworth. He’s got an okay British accent right now, but I’m sure I can whip something up.”

“You must be pretty good with computers.”

“I like to think so, though that might just be the ego talking.” Grace check the temperature of the Pork and Beans again and decided that they were finally hot enough. She began setting up a few plates, one for her, one for Ian, and one for Dogmeat. “Dad wanted me to be a doctor like him, but I always liked computers more, so I taught myself about them whenever I had free time.” She handed Ian a plate and put another in front of dogmeat before taking her own and plopping herself down on the bunkbed across from Ian.

They quieted into comfortable silence as they ate. A few bites in, though, and another question was itching at the back of Grace’s mind.

“This might be a difficult question, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but… How did you learn about your… mutation?” Grace asked.

Ian chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before answering. “I was ten. Lucy and I were playing under the overpass one day. We loved throwing rocks in the water. One day we saw this wastelander breaking into the brahman pan and trying to steal one, so I ran up to him and told him to stop. He just laughed and pushed me. Then my head started to hurt, and my eyes got all blurry. Next thing I know, Lucy was pulling me off him… I’d torn his throat out with my teeth.” Ian looked far away.

“What did Lucy say?”

“She said he pulled out some sort of club and was about to attack me with it when I jumped on him. If I hadn’t done that he might have hurt Lucy. I dunno… Lucy said we shouldn’t ever tell our parents what happened. That they wouldn’t understand, and that she’d try to help me. Whwnever I felt the hunger come back she’d hold me until it went away. After a while, it seemed to stop… until, you know.”

“I’m sorry. It must be hard to talk about.”

“It’s okay. It actually makes me feel a bit better… to talk about it, I mean.”

They ate in silence for a bit until Ian looked up at Grace again. “Why’d you leave?” Grace raised an eyebrow in question, so Ian elaborated. “The Vault. Why’d you leave the Vault?”

“Oh,” Grace said. “Well, I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either leave or die… My dad left and the Overseer went nuts. He killed dad’s assistant for helping him. Killed a bunch of other people for trying to leave. He was gonna kill me too, for God knows why. So I left.”

Ian pondered this before asking another question. “Where’s your dad?”

Grace sighed and looked down at her plate. “I don’t know. I have a lead, but it goes into DC and I need better supplies before I can risk it.” She looked back up at Ian. “That’s why I’m here actually. Took a job for a few caps.”

Ian seemed to ponder this for a moment, giving Grace a look before giving her a small smile. “This might sound kind of bad, but I’m glad you did.”

Grace returned his smile. “Me too. I learned a lot and met some good people. It was worth it.” Her grin then turned devilish. “Plus, I still made a bit of caps scavving here and there, so, y’know, not a total waste of my time.”

Ian barked a laugh. “Right. You totally hate it here.”

“I know! I could have gone to DC and been shot fifty kajillion times instead! What was I thinking? Nah, I like you guys. Evan King is useless, but you’re good people.”

“Thanks.” Ian chuckled.

Ian seemed like he was in a better mood the rest of the night.

***

Grace left the next morning after hugging Ian goodbye and collecting the letter he wrote to his sister. The settlers seemed sad to see her go, and bid her farewell. Even Adam gave a respectful nod as she passed.

Grace felt a bit of pride. She’d done a good thing for both Arefu, and the Family. She walked a little straighter, and a little bit more confidently, all the way back to Megaton.

Once back at Megaton, Grace checked in with Moira to report on her findings in Minefield and give her the frag mine she’d saved. Moira was ecstatic, and gave Grace an impressive reward of explosives, which Grace promptly traded for a nice set of combat armor, ammo, some caps, and a blanket to turn into a bed for Dogmeat.

Grace set up Dogmeat’s bed and gave him some water before she changed out of her armor and into a Vault suit. Grace then pooled her caps together and counted them out. She had counted 1500 caps. Grace blinked and counted again. 1500 caps. Damn, all that trading had been worth it. She suspected that she’d made most of those caps from the loot she’d gotten from killing raiders. Which she was perfectly fine with. Grace took a moment to fix up her guns and count her ammo. Her hunting rifle and assault rifles were her best weapons, and she’d been able to keep them in fairly good condition. Unfortunately, she was low on ammo for the assault rifle, so she’d have to rely in the hunting rifle more.

Overall, she felt ready to take on DC.

She still had some time before sunset, so she decided to give Gob a visit. Dogmeat followed Grace eagerly out the door and into the dusty saloon.

The place was quiet. It was still too early for the evening rush, and the only people there were the ‘employees’ and some out-of-towner nursing a scotch. Gob was doing inventory behind the counter. He turned to state the standard greeting when he saw who it was.

“Hey, smoothskin! Where have you been?” Gob greeted her cheerfully.

Grace smiled and walked up to the counter. “Oh, just had a job to deliver a letter in Arefu, then an errand for Moira. It’s been an interesting few days.” Grace looked down to pet Dogmeat. “Wanna meet my new companion?”

“What?” Gob leaned over and looked down at the dog, noticing him for the first time. “Oh…”

“Gob, meet Dogmeat. Dogmeat, Gob.”

Dogmeat chuffed and gave Gob a wide puppy smile. Gob just stared, unsure sure of what he should do.

“Wanna pet him?” Grace offered.

“Pet him?” Gob seemed almost alarmed.

“Sure!” Grace lead Dogmeat around the counter. “I just met this big guy, but he’s super friendly. Unless you’re a raider. But you’re not a raider, so you don’t have anything to worry about. Sit, boy.”

Dogmeat plopped his butt down and gave Gob another smile.

Gob glanced at Grace, who gave him an encouraging grim before motioning to the dog. Gob slowly reached down and placed a hand on Dogmeat’s head. Dogmeat didn’t move and just kept panting. Gob pet Dogmeat a few times before experimentally scratching behind the dog’s ears, prompting Dogmeat to lick Gob’s arm happily. Gob jolted back in surprise, then laughed before going back to petting the dog.

“He is friendly. Where’d you pick him up?”

Grace leaned on the counter next to her. “Old scrapyard up north. Raiders killed his old master, I helped him kill the raiders, and he’s been with me since. Like I said, interesting few days.”

Gob sighed quietly, looking dreamily into the distance. “What I’d give…” He muttered under his breath before catching himself and clearing his throat. “I-I mean, I didn’t mean that.” Gob straightened and took a step back.

“Gob…” Grace said gently. “If you want to leave so bad, why don’t you?”

Gob sighed again. “Smoothskin, you know I can’t. My debt-“

“Gob, how long have you been working here?” Grace’s voice was suddenly a little stern, but remained quiet and gentle.

“Fifteen years…” Gob began wringing his hands.

“Fifteen years is a long-ass time to be paying off a debt. If you haven’t paid it off by now, then Moriarty isn’t paying you what you’re worth.”

Gob nervously checked to see if his only patron was listening in, but the man seemed to busy wallowing in his drink to care about what they were talking about.

Gob turned back to Grace, shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry, kid. I can’t.”

It was Grace’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. I get it… So, what can I get you today, smoothskin?”

Grace ordered a scotch and slowly nursed her drink while she walked Gob through how to check the radio for any issues. Turned out Nova was right and the thing was fine, it was the signal that was messed up. Gob seemed disappointed, but thanked Grace anyway. By the time they were done the bar was beginning to fill with customers and Gob became too busy to talk.

Grace hung around long enough for Lucy to show up so she could give Lucy the news of both her parent’s deaths, and what had happened with her brother. Lucy teared up, overcome with grief for her parents and joy that her brother would be okay. She hugged Grace and thanked her profusely, clutching the letter from her brother. Grace gave Lucy a sad smile, offered her condolences, and left with Dogmeat in tow.

Grace needed to start packing for her next trip.

***

The song “Anything Goes” was coming to a close and the radio crackled a bit to signal that Three Dog was about to speak.

_“Hello, chiiiiiillldren! It’s your friendly neighborhood Three Dog! OWWWWWW! And I’m here with Galaxy News Radio… Bringing you, what else? The NEWS!”_

Cigarette smoke, dust and chem fumes roiled in the air of the seedy bar, combining with the alcohol and hundred-year-old bodies to form a scent that would have made Charon’s nose wrinkle in disgust, if he still had one. The most pitiful ghouls of Underworld were drowning their sorrows and boredom in booze and drugs in the only place for miles that would serve them. Ahzrukhal was milking them of every cap he could get, as always. Patches was drinking himself into a stupor that would end with him getting thrown out, as always. And Charon just stood in his corner, watched, and waited, as always.

Charon usually didn’t bother to listen in to the radio. Like everything else, it never seemed to say anything new. Supermutants in DC, the Brotherhood struggling to fight them, where the deathclaws liked to hang out, it hadn’t changed much in the years Charon had spent holed up in this stinkhole. He just tuned in every now and then to stave off the soul-sucking monotony. He was sick of being stick in this hellhole with nothing but the same four walls to stare at day in and day out.

_“Well, Little Miss 101 is at it again, folks! The girl was spotted over in Arefu, where the settlement has been hit pretty hard lately by a marauding gang of riotous ruffians, the Family. Buuuuttt... it would seem that after 101 made a little solo sojourn into the murky depths of Meresti Station, the attacks just... stopped. And the cherry on top? She emerged a short time later with a young lad named Ian West, who, presumably, had been taken captive in the latest raid.”_

This kid again, huh? Seems like this vault dweller was making a bit of a splash. Not that is mattered to Charon much. Not like he’d ever see the girl for himself. He’d count her lucky if she lasted more than a few more weeks.

_“So, what happened down there in the stinking, slinking subway tunnels? Friendly chit-chat, or a classic case of shotgun diplomacy? I doubt that last one, since the gang’s now PROTECTING the little settlement. What did you DO down there, 101? In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter. Arefu is quiet once more, and better yet, well-guarded, thanks to the efforts of the lone wanderer.”_

A bleeding heart, huh? Charon could almost sigh. No point getting attached to this story. Those sorts never lasted long. The kid would probably dead soon enough.

 _“And now, some music.”_ Three Dog signed off and “Let’s go Sunning” began playing. Charon groaned inwardly. Who knew listening to the same twenty songs over and over again for two hundred years could make you hate music?

Charon gritted his teeth and tuned out again, letting his mind wander over the years and how he ended up in this stinking pit. At least mulling over what he could have done differently gave him something to think about.


	8. Galaxy News Radio

She set out that morning at the crack of dawn to make the trip, but the tunnels through DC had taken a lot of her time to get through. Grace had finally met her first feral ghouls and the way they moved and looked made her skin crawl. Dogmeat had been a huge help, of course. He was amazing at fighting ferals and would hold enemies in place to give Grace a clear shot when she needed it. He could also sense danger long before Grace would have, giving her plenty of time to get the drop on any hostiles in an area.

That big green guy had still been tough though, soaking up a dozen bullets before it finally fell dead. If there were too many more of those things, Grace was going to need more ammo.

When Grace finally made it to Chevy Chase North the sun was beginning to set. The square was bright and open and left Grace feeling exposed. She watched and waited for a few minutes, but when she didn’t see anything and Dogmeat gave no signals Grace moved out of the cover of the stairway and walked in the direction of GNR.

The way lead through a crater that looked like it may have once been a house, based on the concrete floor and columns that formed a makeshift bridge across the gap. As Grace and dogmeat approached Dogmeat gave a warning growl. Grace dropped into a crouch and raised her rifle just before the super mutants jumped out of hiding in an alcove to the left, brandishing hunting rifles.

Grace dove behind a car, dragging dogmeat with her, right as the super mutants opened fire. Bullets clanked off the car’s siding. Grace propped her assault rifle on top of the car, aimed, and began firing at the mutants. Dogmeat leaped out and lunged at the nearest mutant as it was aiming its gun at Grace and sank his jaws into the mutant’s leg. The mutant screamed and moved to hit the dog right as Grace opened fire. She filled its chest with bullets before the hit landed. Dogmeat released the dead mutant and turned on the other when a shot rang out from the right and a red laser pierced the mutant’s shoulder. The mutant turned to where the shot had come from and Grace took the opportunity to shoot the mutant down.

Grace took down her gun and half crawled to the other end of the car to see what was going on. More super mutants had crawled from the crater and were engaged with a bunch of people wearing thick metal power armor like the kind they had during the war and brandishing some sweet laser rifles. Grace called Dogmeat to her and had him lay low next to her. A super mutant had crawled out of the crater near her and had its back to her, completely exposed. Grace carefully aimed at its head and fired three bullets. The mutant fell and suddenly the battle was over. The other three mutants had been taken out by the people in power armor.

Once everything went silent and the power armor-wearers didn’t make any moves to attack her Grace stood and usher dogmeat toward her.

“That the idiot who ruined our ambush?” a male voice sounded from one suit.

“Looks like it,” a female voice rand from another, which began walking toward Grace.

Grace’s brow twitched, but she gave no other outward signs to her irritation.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t belong here,” The woman in power armor removed her helmet to better glower at Grace. She was blond and tan and seemed much taller than she probably was in her power armor. “The area is overrun with super mutants. We don’t have the time or resources to babysit you.”

Grace straightened up and glanced at the people behind the woman. “Who are you guys?”

The woman furrowed her brow. “I’m Sentinel Sarah Lyons. I’m the leader of the Lyons Pride of the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Right. The Brotherhood…” Grace muttered to herself. “Well, thanks for the assist. I didn’t realize it was so dangerous out this way.”

An incredulous look crossed over Sentinel Lyons’ face. “Have you been living under a rock? This is DC. The whole place is crawling with super mutants.”

Grace shrugged and held eye contact. “Something like that. You said the whole area is overrun. What about GNR?”

Sentinel Lyons sighed. “That’s actually where we’re heading. The building’s been our port in the storm for a while, but the area’s been hit hard lately and we’re their backup.” Sarah sighed, “Look, I know how stubborn you wastelanders are, so just stick close and keep your head down and you can come with us, alright?”

“Sure thing.” Grace nodded.

“And keep an eye on your dog,” Sentinel added as she turned back to her men.

Grace took a deep breath and approached the group. Lyons gave her instructions to the team, giving some special attention to one that sounded like a teenage girl under her helmet, a rookie of some sort. Lyons introduced them as Initiate Reddin and Paladin Vargas. Neither seemed to be thrilled to have her around. Grace checked her gun to give herself something to do. Once everyone was caught up Sentinel Lyons called for them to move out and began jogging down an alleyway to the right of the crater. Her team followed with Grace and Dogmeat close behind.

They rounded a corner and found two more soldiers in power armor. One lay dead on a ratty old mattress while the other peered around the corner next to him. Sentinel Lyons approached the survivor.

“Status update, soldier,” Lyons commanded.

“All clear, ma’am,” The soldier responded. “Five super mutants released from their torment. The rest are keeping their heads down.”

Grace thought the solder’s way of describing death was odd.

“Good. Jennings?” Lyons looked at the dead soldier.

“Negative,” the survivor replied curtly. He glanced at Grace. “New recruit?”

“No. Just a stray. The one who blundered into the Uglies over on 42nd.”

“Welcome,” the knight nodded respectfully at Grace without turning from his post. “I’m Knight Captain Colvin.”

Grace gave a respectful nod back. “Thanks.” Dogmeat snorted and shook his head. “Name’s Grace.”

“Alright. It’s the usual drill! Reddin, just do whatever Paladin Vargas says and keep your mouth shut. You stick to Knight Captain Colvin, wastelander. He’ll take good care of you,” Lyons commanded.

Grace nodded and checked her gun again.

“Yes, ma’am,” Reddin responded. She sounded like she was around Grace’s age.

Vargas tapped Grace’s arm to get her attention and Grace half-turned to him. “Stay close and stay low. We’ll handle the muties.” Paladin Vargas told her.

“Okay,” was all Grace said.

“Move out!” Lyons commanded. The team began moving down a second alleyway toward a building that stood in shambles, Dogmeat close at Grace’s heels. The roof and upper floors were long gone, but the walls and some of the second floor still stood. The front of the building had some playground equipment and cars, probably a school or daycare before the bombs fell. A super mutant lurked just above the doorway leading into the building, and a few more were taking cover behind the cars in front of the building.

Lyons’ team surged forward and began firing at the mutants, who rushed out to meet the team head-on. Grace aimed for the car with the most mutants around it and managed to get a bullet into the engine, causing the car to blow and take two of the super mutants with it while fatally injuring a third. Sentinel Lyons finished off the injured mutant while Paladin Vargas took out the mutant on the second floor.

“Good one,” Colvin told Grace next to him. No one else seemed to have noticed Grace’s shot.

“Good work team! Keep moving!” Lyons shouted as the team rushed toward the now open doorway.

Once they were inside more mutants poured out of the woodwork. A few muties shot down at them from above while others engaged from the ground floor. Grace focused on the ones above while the others mostly focused on the ground level mutants. The team made short work of the mutants inside the old school building by coming at each mutant from multiple angles, which the ruined school was well suited for.

Once the mutants in the old school building were all dead, most of the team made it toward the doorway leading into the GNR plaza. Grace decided to follow Colvin up the second floor where she could cover the team from above and stay out of the way. Dogmeat followed closely.

Lyons paused to let her team catch their breath and reload. Grace scanned the plaza. There were a half-dozen more mutants, but there was also a team of what looked to be more Brotherhood soldiers in power armor engaging the mutants from a couple of balconies on the GNR building.

“Go!” Lyons shouted, and her team of three rushed into the plaza to take the super mutants from behind.

Grace and the survivor opened fire from above and, again, the super mutants were dead shortly thereafter. The team down below seemed to relax and Lyons began surveying the damage. The plaza was littered with the bodies of dead super mutants and Brotherhood knights. A globe statue and long dead fountain rested in the center of the plaza surrounded by benches on all sides. The GNR building itself had another logo statue on the building itself. A few sandbag walls surrounded the ways up toward the GNR building, but there weren’t really any other defensible positions. No wonder the Brotherhood was having trouble defending it.

“Hey, you’re a pretty good shot,” The survivor knight had approached Grace from behind. “Thanks for helping me watch their backs.”

Grace turned gave him a small smile. “No problem.”

“So, how’d I do Vargas? I pass my little trial run?” Reddin’s voice rang out from below, voice oozing overconfidence. “Come on, Lyons’ Pride needs me and you know it. Citadel guard duty is such bullshit.” Reddin reloaded her gun and began shooting the GNR globe statue on the building.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see. Now knock that off. You’re wasting ammo.” Vargas replied curtly. Reddin immediately stopped and turned back to Vargas.

“You’re not that much older than Reddin, right?” Knight Captain Colvin spoke to Grace again, recapturing her attention.

“I don’t know how old Reddin is. Haven’t seen her without the helmet,” Grace gestured at her own head and smirked.

“Heh. Right. You got me there.” Colvin ran a hand over his helmet sheepishly, like one might run a hand through their hair. Down below Vargas and Reddin were still arguing.

“I’m 19.” Grace told Colvin.

Colvin nodded. “Thinking about joining the Brotherhood?” he asked. “I know Initiate Reddin isn’t leaving the best impression right now-“ Colvin gestured toward the soldiers below, who were splitting up to sweep the area, Reddin to the right and Vargas to the left- “but you seem like a decent enough shot. Some training and you might make a good knight.”

Grace paused and scratched Dogmeat behind the ears. “I don’t know. I haven’t made a decision about you guys yet.”

Colvin looked like he was about to say something else when a boom rang over the plaza. Everyone froze.

“What was that?” Grace asked Colvin.

Another boom rang out, then a bus and a few cars to the right exploded. Reddin was standing too close and was launched into the air to come crashing down near the doorway to the school building. A huge green humanoid figure stepped out from where the bus had lain, standing as tall as a two-story building and brandishing a fire hydrant for a club and a truck door for a shield.

“Behemoth!” Lyons shouted below and everyone opened fire on the beast. Lyons and Vargas had to take cover near the GNR building as the behemoth rushed at them. “Grab that fat man!” Lyons shouted at Grace and Colvin and pointed toward the body draped over the fountain.

Grace didn’t waste a second. She strapped her assault rifle to her back, firmly told Dogmeat to stay, then leaped down into a ground floor hallway. Colvin shouted after her, but Grace ignored him. She was at the door not long after. The behemoth was preoccupied with the Brotherhood knights on the balcony, so Grace took the opportunity to sprint toward the body. She was there before she realized she didn’t know what a fat man was.

The behemoth spotted her, shouted, and turned. Grace didn’t have time to guess, so she grabbed everything that wasn’t power armor and bolted back to the school building. Grace barely made it inside before the behemoth’s makeshift club smashed down on the ground just outside and sent her careening into the wall beyond. The behemoth screamed in frustration. The behemoth was contemplating how to get to Grace when one of the Brotherhood soldiers sent a frag grenade flying at the beast. The explosion caught its attention and the creature turned back to the GNR building, bellowing its rage.

“Colvin, did I get it?” Grace shouted up at him.

Colvin peered down at her from his pos. “Yeah! You got some sort of death wish?”

“… Maybe?” Grace shouted back. Dogmeat joined Colvin and whined down at her. “I’m okay, boy. Ow…”

Grace sat up and looked at what she had in her hands. One hand held some sort or mechanical catapult that looked it had a kind of track for pushing ammo into the back of the catapult to launch it. The other held a string of what looked to be eight tiny nuclear bombs. Maybe the bombs were the ammo and the catapult was the gun? The track on the catapult looked like something one might place something into then push into place. Grace took one of the bombs and put it in near the open end of the catapult, then firmly and quickly pushed it in. She was rewarded with a series of satisfying clicks as the bomb was pushed into the closed end of the catapult, at which point a louder click sounded and the bomb wouldn’t go in any further.

Grace whipped the gun around and placed it on her shoulder so that the rigger rested close to her and the open end pointed away, then she made her way to the doorway to the old school building. To get the behemoth’s attention, she placed two fingers from one hand into her mouth and whistled. The behemoth whipped around and snarled at her. Figuring she was an easy mark, it charged, swinging its club. One it was halfway across the plaza to her, Grace pulled the trigger and sent the bomb fling at the behemoth. The bomb arced more than Grace expected and contacted the behemoth’s legs, exploding with such force that the whole plaza shook. The behemoth stumbled with its legs torn to shreds, but still stood. It screamed at her and lumbered forward, too injured to run but determined to kill her.

Grace quickly grabbed another bomb, pushed it into the fat man, and aimed again. The behemoth was a mere 6 yards from her when she fired again. This time the bomb connected with the behemoth’s chest, but Grace was too close and the shockwave sent her flying backwards. Grace’s back slammed into the wall behind her, knocking the wind out of her, but the behemoth fell and didn’t move.

After a moment cheers could be heard coming from the GNR building. Knight Captain Colvin leaped down and helped Grace stand as she gasped for air. Dogmeat was there not long after, nudging and whining at Grace.

“That was impressive. But, uh, maybe next time let me go toe to toe with the big ones, yeah?” Colvin said.

Grace managed give a sly grin through the wheezing. “To slow.” She gasped out.

“God dammit!” Lyons’ shout echoed from the plaza.

Grace rushed forward to the plaza with Colvin and Dogmeat close on her heels. Sentinel Lyons and Paladin Vargas were standing around Initiate Reddin, who lay sprawled on one of the piles of rubble near the old school building. Grace stumbled closer. It looked like the Initiate was dead, but she wanted to see if there was anything she could do.

Vargas stiffened as Grace approached, clearly not in the mood to deal with her.

“I’m a doctor. If she’s still alive I can help,” Grace told him firmly, through breathlessly.

“She’s dead. Nothing you can do,” Vargas told her curtly. He walked toward the statue at the center of the plaza and plopped down on one of the benches surrounding it.

Grace turned to Sentinel Lyons. “I’m sorry.”

“She died well. In the end that’s all that matters.” Lyons turned to look at Grace. “I supposed it’s my turn to thank you. The plaza is secure now, so you can go ahead in and talk to Three Dog, if that’s what you’re here for.”

Grace took that as a dismissal and turned toward the GNR building.

“Come with me. I’ll let you in,” Colvin offered. He led Grace to the building and spoke through the intercom to let the men inside know that the coast was clear. A voice answered a confirmation and a click sounded as the door unlocked. Grace thanked Knight Captain Colvin and entered the building with Dogmeat in tow. Colvin stayed outside.

Beyond the set of double doors was the lobby of the old radio building. The place had been converted into a place where the team of soldiers defending the place could make a last stand. The only lighting in the building were burning barrels that lit the soldiers from behind. There were lines of sandbags and concrete dividers and shelving units made to give the soldiers cover. Two stairways on either side of the lines lead up to a balcony from which they could fire down at intruders. Ammo boxes and first aid kits lined anywhere they might get pinned down. It was impressive how they’d turned a completely open area into a fortress.

A team of four Brotherhood soldiers stood in the lobby, three in between the makeshift half-walls and one above on the balcony. One of the three on the ground began to speak.

“Well met, stranger. I’m Knight Dillon. If there’s anything you need here, I’ll try to help.” He sounded young, like he was not much older than Grace.

“I’m Grace. This is the GNR building, right?” Grace said, ever the picture of politeness.

“It is,” the Knight confirmed.

“I need to speak with Three Dog.”

“Looking for your dad?” Dillon asked.

Grace’s brow furrowed. “How did you…?”

Dillon chuckled. “Don’t worry. Just checking. We’ve been expecting you to show up sooner or later looking for your old man. Three Dog’s just upstairs, through the middle door.” Dillon pointed over his shoulder. “Sorry you, uh, walked in to such a mess. Glad you made it.”

“Thanks.” Grace began to walk toward the set of stairs to the left, calling Dogmeat to her.

“If you need anything, feel free to ask.” Dillon called after her.

Grace gave a smile and a nod and headed up to Three Dog.

Through the doorway, a short hallway, and another door and Grace found herself in GNR studios. The main room she was in was lined with filing cabinets, counters and desks, with another L-shaped desk at the center. To her left was another hallway that ended in a turn to the right was wide staircase leading up to a third floor. Grace walked up the stairs and found an open space lined with a U-shaped hallway, lined with more shelving and doors leading into rooms containing everything a sound studio might need. Three Dog exited one of these rooms as Grace reached to top of the stairs and gave her a flashy grin.

“The look on your face says it all,” he spoke like a pre-war radio announcer. “You’re wondering who the heck this guy is and why you should care. Well, prepare to be enlightened. I am,” dramatic pause, to which Grace internally rolled her eyes, “Three Dog, jockey of discs and teller of truths. Lord and Master over the finest radio station to grace the Wastes, Galaxy News Radio. And you, well, I know who you are. Heard about you leavin’ the Vault, travelin’ the unknown. Just like dear old dad, hmm? Met him already.”

Three Dog suddenly had all of Grace’s attention. “You know my dad? Is he here?”

“I get it, kid. You want to find your dad, and it just so happens that his location is known by yours truly. He was here, at Galaxy New Radio. We had a great conversation. Real stand-up guy. If you want to know more, though, you’re gonna have to contribute to the Good Fight.”

Grace raised a brow. “Contribute how?”

“Galaxy new radio is my baby. I love it. I feed it. I keep it changed. But there’s one problem, no one outside D.C. can hear her cry. You see, some brainless Super Mutant thought it would be funny to shoot at the shiny round thing on the Washington Monument.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“Yep. That shiny thing was our broadcast relay. Now it’s swiss cheese. Without it, our broadcast range is quite limited. Of course, the factory that built the relay is long gone. Leveled. As in, we’re never gonna scavenge that part again.”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

“It’s risky, I’m not gonna lie. But there’s something behind those eyes of yours that screams ‘I’m the one that can get shit done!’ Your dad had that same look in his eyes, too. That’s why Three Dog’s helping you.”

 _‘Helping’_ , Grace thought to herself.

“Just tell me what you need,” Grace told him.

One of the Brotherhood guys that passed through here mentioned seeing a dish in one of D.C.’s old museums. It’s the dish off the old Virgo II Lunar Lander in the Museum of Technology. I want you to get it and bring it to the Washington Monument to replace the bad one. That’s it.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Three Dog, but I need more than info to do a job like that. I have no Idea what I’m walking into, but I’d bet my favorite gun the area’s loaded with Super Mutants. I can’t afford to make a trip like that without more incentive for when I get back.”

“Okay, how about this?” Three Dog said a little too quickly. “There aren’t many weapons cache’s from before the war that are still intact, but I just happen to have the key and location to one that I have good reason to believe is still in one piece. Get the job done, and it’s yours.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Grace held out her hand.

Three Dog took it and gave a firm shake. “You be careful out there, kid. I hate to see the good ones go. Now, I’m sure you’re tired after all that fighting to get here. Talk to one of the guys downstairs. I’m sure we’ve got an extra bed stashed away somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Grace nodded.

Grace returned to the lobby and took them up on the offer of a bed for the night. She was exhausted and sore. Her back was sure to be black and blue by tomorrow. But she was also restless, still feeling the aftermath of the fight. So, to use up the rest of her energy and give Dogmeat some fresh air Grace spent an hour gathering the guns and ammo from all the super mutants that fell that day and stashing the weapons in a dumpster near where she met Knight Captain Colvin for later pickup, except for a few Chinese assault rifles that she switched out for her regular assault rifle and brought back to the GNR building to fix up. She’d heard good things about these guns and was looking forward to using it. If the Brotherhood soldiers weren’t interested, then someone might as well use them.

When she finally fell to sleep she was beginning to feel confident of the trip she’d have to make the next day.


	9. To Underworld

When Grace finally made it to the old History Museum she was bloody and tired and overladen with supplies. Dogmeat fared better along the trip, but not by much. Grace was still too new at all this traveling and fighting and trying to make sense of where she was going and where she’d come from. If it weren’t for her pipboy she’d constantly be getting lost.

It had been midmorning when Grace finally woke and started getting ready to leave. Her back was sore and protested every time she moved, but she’d wanted to get moving. The mall wasn’t far, maybe a few hours judging by the route her pipboy had given. Her destination had been set to the Museum of History, which was right across the mall from the Science Museum. She’d been a little excited despite herself. She’d wanted to visit a museum since she’d first read about them as a small girl, and now she was about to get to visit two. Not to mention she’d wanted to make good on her promise to Gob. She’d been practically giddy.

Knight Dillon had kept checking in on her to make sure she had everything she needed. He’d also made sure to warn her of the super mutants who liked to camp out in the area, as well as the ferals who slunk around in the tunnels. It would have been kind of sweet how worried he was if Grace hadn’t been chewing at the bit to get going. She’d assured him she would be fine. She knew a place nearby that should be safe and left it at that.

She’d left GNR out the back way through Three Dog’s studio and entered the tunnels not far from there. In the tunnels Grace and Dogmeat had encountered little more than feral ghouls and wild dogs most of the way to the former Museum of History, that is, until they reached the Museum station.

The station right outside the Museum of History was filled with raiders. How they managed with so many super mutants supposedly right outside their door was beyond Grace, but they were now standing between her and her goal. If it weren’t for the mangled bodies hanging from the walls and ceiling Grace might have thought to approach peacefully. But these were raiders. They were lees human and more feral beast that needed to be put down. So, Grace raised her assault rifle and stepped out of hiding.

The resulting firefight left Grace with a bullet in her right bicep and another in her left shoulder and left Dogmeat with a long gash down his right side. Grace used up the last of her stimpaks healing Dogmeat’s side and to stop her own bleeding. Grace would just have to hope Underworld had a doctor or medical supplies. Lucky her the raiders had some good guns she could trade on top of the massive number of caps she still had stashed away in a secret pocket in her backpack.

When Grace finally emerged from the subway station it was midafternoon. She’d taken longer than she’d hoped, but she still had plenty of time left in the day. The girl and her dog snuck up the stairs and around the railing erected to keep people from falling down the hole in the ground that led into the station. Super mutants swarmed the mall’s grounds, stomping around and complaining about being hungry or bored. Dogmeat kept his head down and followed Grace’s lead, ears forward and eyes fixated on the nearest mutant.

As they edged around the railing to where they wouldn’t be seen Grace felt herself back into a pair of legs. Grace spun around and looked up, clutching her rifle, to see a lady ghoul with red patchy hair and wearing red lipstick and merc gear, looking at Grace with a mixture of confusion and wariness. Panic seized Grace and before the ghoul woman could say anything Grace reached up and pulled the woman down next to her.

“Get down! They’ll see you!” Grace hissed, checking over the half-wall of the railing to see if they’d attracted the attention of any mutants. When Grace saw they hadn’t she relaxed and turned back to the ghoulette to find her gripping her own laser rifle. Dogmeat had turned to face the ghoul woman with a soundless snarl.

“What the hell was that for?” she demanded.

“There are super mutants in the mall,” Grace gestured to try to get the lady ghoul to quiet down.

“Of course there are muties in the mall! There are always muties in the mall!” the ghoulette retorted.

Grace’s brow furrowed. “You’re not scared of them?”

“Those knuckle draggers don’t bother with ghouls, tourist,” the ghoul responded, irritation coloring her tone.

“They don’t?”

“No. We keep our distance and those big lumbering idiots don’t bug us.” The ghoulette rose and brushed herself off.

“Sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Dogmeat seemed to relax a bit next to Grace, though he kept his eyes trained on the ghoul.

“Nah,” she sighed in response. “Appreciate the concern, though. Been a while since we’ve seen another human with a death wish ‘round these parts. Welcome to the D.C. mall, tourist.”

Grace decided not to say anything about the death wish comment and reached a hand up in a peace offering. “I’m Grace.”

The ghoul took it and gave a firm shake, looking amused. “Willow.” She released Grace’s hand. When Grace didn’t move to get up she continued. “You can stand up, you know. The muties will probably just think you’re another ghoul.” Willow sounded like she was holding back a chuckle.

Grace looked a bit sheepish as she stood up.

“So, what brings you to Underworld, tourist?”

“A couple things, really. Promised a friend that I’d get a message to his mom if I was ever in the area.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“Gotta pick something up at the Museum of Science.” Grace pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

Willow pulled a cigarette out of a pocket in her jacket and a lighter and lit it. She dragged on it, then breathed out a long trail of smoke towards the sky.

“So super mutants really don’t bother you?”

“Nah. Dunno why. Maybe they see us as kin or something. Those other assholes are more of a problem.”

“What ‘other assholes’?”

“Yeah, you know. Those other humans like you. Well, maybe not like you, tourist. I dunno, but humans all the same. Those Brotherhood of Steel guys with all their testosterone and power armor. And those psycho Talon Company mercs. Those other assholes.”

Grace seemed to think on this for a moment before asking another question. “Why do you keep calling me ‘tourist’?”

Willow gave Grace an incredulous look. “You’re in the Mall of our nation’s capital city going to museums, taking in the sights, visiting the monuments. If that ain’t a tourist, I dunno what is.”

Grace smirked and shrugged. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” She gestured toward the door to the museum. “Am I good to go in?”

“Heh. Sure thing, tourist. Just don’t cause any trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grace waved and began walking towards the doors.

***

After spending too long staring at the mammoth and T-rex skeleton displays in the museum’s lobby Grace made it into Underworld proper, where she had a quick discussion with a ghoul named Winthrop. He just wanted to know whether she meant any harm, and after Grace assured him that she was there to fulfill a promise to a friend he relaxed and offered directions around the building. Once he pointed out all the businesses to her Grace thanked him and went straight to the Chop Shop to get patched up.

While the name for the shop was morbid and the window viewing the feral room was unsettling, Dr. Barrows and Nurse Graves were nice enough. Grace even managed to get Barrows talking about his theory on ghoul feralization while he patched Grace up. Said his data pointed to depression being the trigger, not radiation, which Grace was very interested in. She even let Barrows take a skin sample for DNA comparison in exchange for letting her look over his data. Barrows just seemed glad to get the sample and a new perspective on his study. The doctor may have been a bit of a mad genius, but his data was solid. Nearly 150 years’ worth of data, much of it disproving the radiation theory most people in the wasteland seemed to believe and instead pointing to a drop in serotonin levels in the brain as being the cause, triggering the degradation that effected all ghouls to spread to the brain. Grace got excited and the three ended up chatting about the data and what it meant for a few hours longer than she meant to.

When she realized how much time had passed she hurriedly bid farewell to the good doctor and nurse and headed up to Carol’s Place. Grace noticed some of the Underworld residents eyeing her suspiciously, but Grace ignored them in favor of making sure she didn’t end up walking through the wrong door and making sure Dogmeat was sticking close.

Once there, the inn seemed cozy enough. It was miles ahead of Moriarty’s back in Megaton, cleaner, neater, brighter, and just generally more welcoming. There was a counter with a queen-sized bed and a kitchenette behind it. Tables were spread out to the left for people to eat at, and through a threshold beyond them Grace spotted some curtained-off areas with what looked to be more beds behind them. A few ghouls sat at the tables or stood chatting in the bed-area and another stood behind the counter, sorting through the shelves behind the counter.

“Hello?” Grace said as she walked up to the counter.

“Yeah, what is-?” The ghoulette began, turning to Grace, her tone sharp and impatient before she realized she didn’t know who she was speaking to. “Oh! Someone new! I’m so sorry! You must think I’m terribly rude!” She spoke apologetically, with a little excitement. “Welcome! Welcome to Carol’s Place! I’m Carol.” Caarol glanced around, smiling fondly. “It’s not much, I know, but it’s mine. You need anything just let me know. Greta makes the food, and I handle the rooms. It’s so good to have someone new here, even it is an ugly ol’ smoothskin. I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Don’t you worry. You’ll love it here.”

Grace gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, sorry about the whole humans being dick to you guys. Pardon my language.” Grace added quickly when she realized what she’d said. Something about Carol made Grace revert into being an insufferably polite kid. “I’m actually here to deliver a message from your son?”

Carol perked up. “Oh? You know him? Have you seen him? Is he alright?”

“He’s working at a bar in Megaton. He wanted me to tell you he’s doing okay, and he says hi.” Grace didn’t have the heart to tell Carol the full story.

“Oh, dear, that’s wonderful news! Thank you! If you see him, would you let him know his mother misses him and loves him and hopes he’s happy?” Carol went from practically giddy to saddened in an instant, placing her hands palm down on the counter as if to hold herself up. “But, he shouldn’t come visit. It’s too dangerous these days. No, he should stay right where he is.”

Grace thought for a moment. She liked Carol immediately. She was so nice, just like Gob. It would be a crime to leave someone who seemed so nice so sad. “Y’know what? It’s looking like I’ll be sticking around for another day or so. Why don’t you write a letter and I’ll bring it back to Megaton for Gob to read? And if it ever looks like I’ll be coming back I’ll have him write you a letter and I’ll bring it with me when I swing by?”

Carol looked confused. “Gob?”

Grace looked up confused for a moment before she realized what was happening. “Oh, sorry, that’s what he’s called in Megaton… What was his real name again?” Grace put a hand on her chin, trying to remember. She was starting to learn she was horrible with names. “Ben? Billy? Bart? It’s a ‘B’ name.”

“Yes, Bartholomew.” Carol said wistfully. “He’s not really my son, you know. Ghouls don’t work that way. But I love him as if he’s mine. He’s always been such a good boy.”

“Heh. You’re telling me. He’s a sweetheart. Been nothing but nice to me since we met.” Grace reached out and put a hand over Carol’s to comfort her. “You just write that letter, I’ll make sure it gets back to him, alright?”

Carol smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grace waved her hand in dismissal. “Anyway, since it’s looking like I’ll be staying the night, how much for a room?”

“Well, since you came all this way to ease an old ghoul’s worries, how about the first night free?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t possibly…” Grace broke eye contact.

“No, no. I insist. It’s the least I can do after you’ve come all this way. It’s dangerous out there, don’t you know?”

After some back and forth, Grace was forced to accept Carol’s hospitality. Not that she was ungrateful, she thanked Carol profusely. She just felt guilty. It felt like too much for such a small thing. So, Grace made sure to help out wherever Carol would let her and paid for a big meal to try to make up for it. Her barely healed wounds still ached, but Grace refused to complain. They passed the time talking about Gob, trading opinions and stories while Greta watched skeptically. Grace mostly listened, gathering some good stories about Gob she’d be sure to tease him about later.

After a while though, she was craving a drink. Hanging out with Gob at Moriarty’s so much had taught her a little too much about the finer points of alcohol. Like dulling pain. So, as it got late, Grace inquired about a drink and Carol pointed Grace toward the 9th Circle with the standard warning not to drink too much and to watch out for the owner trying to swindle her out of her caps. The owner sounded like Moriarty. She could handle another Moriarty, no matter how much she hated the idea of it. At least her distaste would help make sure she didn’t drink too much.

As she walked into the bar, Dogmeat still faithfully at her side, the bar suddenly got quiet as everyone turned to look at her. Grace stopped. She always hated being the center of attention. The rooms were set up in a mirror to Carol’s Place, except there were more tables where the beds in Carol’s were. The room was filled with dust and smoke and the air smelled sour. A radio sang quietly from a far corner, muffled by the smoky air. She was about to turn and walk back out when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Hey, tourist. How’s Underworld treatin’ you?” Willow’s voice sounded from the other room. She waved Grace over. She was sitting with a male ghoul dressed in typical wasteland scavver gear and smiling amicably. “Heard you’ve been hanging out with Carol. How do you like her?”

“Honestly, she seems really nice. I can understand why she and, uh, Bartholomew are so close. They’re just alike.”

“So, you do know Bartie, huh? How is he?” Willow asked.

“He’s doing alright. He’s working at a bar in Megaton. He’s a great guy. I’m lucky to have met him when I did.”

“I’ll have to see if I can swing over that way and visit next time I’m out trading,” the ghoul next to Willow stated.

At Grace’s apparent honesty the other ghouls in the bar relaxed and returned to their drinks, all except for the bartender and a ghoul clad in all black leather standing stock still in a corner overlooking the bar. Willow offered Grace a seat and ordered a drink for her before introducing the ghoul next to her as Quinn. Dogmeat settled below Grace’s chair.

The ghoul from behind the bar walked up to their table. “Well now, lookee here. We got us a smoothskin I ain’t ever seen before,” the ghoul spoke, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I’m Ahzrukhal, and this…” The ghoul gestured around the bar. “this is the Ninth Circle. Folks got problems. I’ve got the liquor to keep them at bay. Well, that and a few other pick-me-ups.” Ahzrukhal winked at Grace. “You need anything, you just let me know, darlin’.”

Grace found she hated the way he called her “darling”. She hated the way he talked to her like she was some fool girl easily swayed by honeyed words. She hated the way he looked at her like she was a piece of meat. But Grace didn’t let her distaste for Ahzrukhal reach her face. Instead she wore a mask of polite interest that had served her well back in the Vault. The same mask she used every time she talked to the Overseer.

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Ahzrukhal seemed like he’d expected something else. His eyes betrayed a disbelieving look, though his face never changed. Instead of saying anything else, he just nodded and returned to the bar. 

“You okay, tourist?” Willow looked vaguely concerned.

“Yeah. Thanks. Just don’t really like being the center of attention.”

Quinn chuckled. “You came to the wrong place then.”

Grace gave an exaggerated huff in response.

Quinn turned out to be alright. He was Underworld’s main connection to the outside world, and as such dealt a lot with humans. That meant he wasn’t very fazed by Grace’s presence. Between him and Willow, Grace began to relax a bit and ordered that drink after all. Turned out rum and Nuka-Cola was pretty alright.

After some chatting and a few drinks Grace felt emboldened enough to begin taking in the bar. Most of the patrons had settled down enough to stop staring. A ghoul at one table who looked like he was so drunk he was about to pass out began singing out of tune along with the radio. Another few began arguing loudly about the merits of different long dead sports teams. One ghoul, clad in black leather armor and standing stock still in the corner, caught Grace’s eye.

“So, who’s that guy in the corner?” Grace asked Willow, emboldened after her second drink.

Willow glanced up dismissively. “That’s Charon. Don’t mind him. He’s just the bouncer.”

Grace quirked an eyebrow. “Like the mythical ferryman?”

“Yyyyyep.”

“He looked really bored,” Grace observed.

“He always looks bored,” Quinn responded. “Even when he’s kicking out Patchwork he looks bored. Didn’t think anyone could be bored talking to that drunk, but whatever.” Quinn shrugged.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” Grace suddenly stood, slapping a palm onto the table, and began to walk over to the ghoul named Charon.

“Nononono,” Willow tried to stop Grace before burying her face in her hand. “She’s a dead woman.”

As Grace walked up to the ghoul, she began to realize just how intimidating he was. He was massive, standing nearly a foot taller than Grace and built like a tank. He was armed to the teeth, with a knife hooked into his belt and a combat shotgun strapped to his back that was nearly half as big as Grace was. As she approached his eyes snapped to attention, focusing on her with a glare that could sent a behemoth running. Grace felt Dogmeat following her and stood firm.

“Hey, are you-?” she began.

“Talk to Ahzrukhal,” the ghoul named Charon interrupted.

Grace furrowed her brow. “But I-“

Charon’s glare sharpened. “Talk. To. Ahzrukhal,” he growled.

Grace glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Charon. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the ghoul running the bar and raised an eyebrow in question.

Charon just glared back at her.

Grace raised both hands in surrender and walked toward the bar and the ghoul behind it.

Ahzrukhal gave Grace a slimy grin as she walked up to him.

“Well hello there. What can I do for you, little missy?” Ahzrukhal sneered.

Grace settled into a stool across from the bar owner, putting on her best mask of polite curiosity. Dogmeat sat next to her and put his head on her thigh. She made sure to butter him up by ordering one last drink before asking, “What’s with that guy in the corner?”

“Oh, Charon?” Ahzrukhal’s tone failed to hide that he was perturbed. He seemed to make a point to mispronounce Charon’s name with an SH, and began making Grace’s rum and cola. “Let’s just say… he’s a loyal employee. Don’t mess with me and he won’t mess with you.”

Grace leaned on the counter and quirked a brow at him. “Loyal how?”

“I hold his contract, which makes me his employer. He does what I ask when I ask, without question.” Ahzrukhal Leaned onto the counter across from grace and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. He was gloating. “You see, Charon grew up around a group of very interesting individuals. They, heh, well, I guess you could say they brainwashed him. He is absolutely loyal to whoever holds his contract. Unfailingly, unflinchingly loyal.” Ahzrukhal leaned back again, his slimy grin returning. “Until the day that employment ends.” He glanced up at Charon, then back at Grace. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt he holds endless… animosity towards me. But as long as I’m his employer, he’s as gentle as a teddy bear.” He finished her drink and slid it across to her.

Grace took a sip to give herself a moment to think before speaking again. Charon was a merc. If Ahzurkhal was willing to part with the contract she might be able to hire him. She wouldn’t have to worry about anyone stealing him out from under her. And with how her first venture into D.C. was going, the sooner she got help the better. “How long has he been working for you?”

Ahzrukhal shrugged, cleaning a glass with an old rag. “Since before I came here, oh, fifteen years ago.”

Grace took another drink, gears turning. She thought being stuck in the vault had been bad. At least she had things to occupy herself with there. She couldn’t imagine being stuck in the same corner, staring at the same four walls, for such a long time. Not without going mad.

She eyed Ahzrukhal, thinking. She wanted that contract. But how in hell was she going to bring something like that up in polite conversation?

Maybe bluntly?

“I’d like to talk to you about that contract.”

“Oh?” Ahzrukhal looked intrigued at this turn of events. “You know, he’s a highly valuable asset to me and the Ninth Circle. What sort of payment did you have in mind?”

“1500 caps.”

“Ha! Don’t insult me. That’s almost enough to make me consider it, but not quite. Make it 2000.”

Grace hesitated. Last she checked she still had 1500 caps, but she still needed to trade for supplies. She had a good stock to trade, but she wasn’t sure it would get her the last 500 caps she needed.

Sensing Grace’s dilemma Ahzrukhal leaned in again, Bringing his face mere inches from hers.

“If that’s too much, we may be able to come to an… arrangement.” Ahzrukhal smirked and spoke in a subdued tone. “See, I don’t like competition. Don’t like that there’s another source of booze in this town. Greta, the waitress at Carol’s, is another source of booze. Kill her, and Charon’s contract is yours.”

Grace blanched. For a moment she just looked at Ahzrukhal. Greta was Carol’s partner, practically Gob’s stepmother. And this degenerate barkeep had just asked Grace to kill her with the same nonchalant attitude of someone who was asking the time.

Dogmeat licked Grace’s elbow, bringing her out of her stupor.

Grace forced her face into a blank expression. “I’ll get you your 2000 caps. Just be ready tomorrow night.” Grace downed what was left of her rum-and-cola and looked Ahzrukhal right in the eye. “Thanks for the drink.” Then she waved goodbye to Willow and Quinn and left the bar, Dogmeat close behind.

***

Charon watched the smoothskin with mild disinterest as she spoke to Ahzrukhal. There was no way he’d be able to make out what they were talking about, but when Ahzrukhal leaned in close to the girl Charon furrowed his brow. She didn’t flinch away or lean back, but everything in her posture seemed to scream with tension. In spite of this, when she stood and down her drink her movements betrayed none of her previous tension.

A moment later, she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. Charon doubted he’d be seeing her again. Smoothskins rarely stayed in Underworld for long. But something about her conversation with Ahzrukhal peaked his interest ever so slightly. Maybe it was the way the girl had handled Ahzrukhal’s particular brand of devilry. Maybe it was the way Ahzrukhal gazed at Charon for a moment after she left. Either way, Charon didn’t expect to ever find out.

He figured it out the next day anyway.

It was midday. The bar was nearly empty, with only the day drinkers slumming about the place like bums, nursing drinks and looking miserable. Ahzrukhal was fixing things up behind the bar and Charon was still camped out in his corner when the same smoothskin from the night before stormed in with her hound and dropped a sack onto the counter. Charon couldn’t see her face, but he would have bet that she looked pleased with herself.

Ahzrukhal looked mildly surprised and pleased in a way that made Charon’s stomach turn. Charon looked away as Ahzrukhal checked the sack. It wasn’t his business what those two were dealing in. He just knew that if Ahzrukhal was involved, it wasn’t anything good.

A moment later he sensed someone approach him. He looked down. It was the smoothskin.

“Talk to-,” Charon began before he spotted the ruined piece of paper in her hand. The faded ink and brown stains were just as he remembered them. It was his contract.

“Um, actually, I have good news about that. I just purchased your contract from Ahzrukhal. I’m your new employer.” Her brow was furrowed as she glared at the piece of parchment, as if that might cause it to reveal its secrets. But the ink had become illegible a long time ago. There was no point trying to read it. All that mattered was that she had it now.

“You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know.” Charon paused. “I must take care of something. Please, wait here.”

The smoothskin glanced up at him, seemingly distracted. “Yeah, of course. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She looked back down at the contract and reached a hand down to scratch behind her dog’s ear.

Charon walked up to the bar and around the counter so that there was nothing between himself and Ahzrukhal. Ahzrukhal continued taking inventory behind the counter as Charon approached.

“Ahzrukhal. I am told that I am no longer in your service.”

That finally seemed to get Ahzrukhal’s attention. “Yes, that is true.” Ahzrukhal finally turned to feign interest. “Come to say goodbye?” Charon could practically hear Ahzrukhal taunting him.

“Yes,” was all Charon said as he drew his shotgun and unloaded two shots into his former employer for good measure. Blood and chunks coated the area behind the bar. Someone screamed. Someone else ran out of the bar.

Charon couldn’t have cared less. It felt good to finally kill the bastard. He’d been dreaming about it for years, and now that it was over he was satisfied.

Of those ghouls that hadn’t fled the bar, one muttered something about Charon shooting Ahzrukhal. Another peered over the bar in the corner of Charon’s eye. If he could turn green with nausea Charon was certain he would have. As Charon turned away from Ahzrukhal’s body he spotted two more clutching each other and staring at him with fear in their eyes. Charon didn’t get what was bothering them so much. Ahzrukhal was a disgrace. He deserved worse than what Charon gave him. And now the world was down one more disgraceful creature. That was a good thing.

Charon spotted the sack that supposedly held whatever payment the girl had used to purchase his contract. Charon glanced inside and saw a huge pile of caps. Funny, he’d been certain Ahzrukhal would have made her pay in ears or something equally disgusting. He’d loved the power he had over Charon, and Charon had doubted anyone in Underworld would ever be able to afford Ahzrukhal’s price. Well, this young girl had managed at least. Charon picked up the sack of caps and stored them in his pocket for later. She’d probably need them for something at some point.

His employer was staring off into space when Charon returned to her. “Alright. Let’s go.”

His new employer jumped a bit at Charon’s voice. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. The dog at her side gazed intently at Charon.

Charon answered calmly. “Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard, but so long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to do as he commanded. But now that you are my employer, I was free to rid the world of that disgusting rat. Now, for good or ill, I serve you.”

His new employer still seemed a bit shocked, but she at least had enough composure to look Charon in the eye.

“We should probably go…” she muttered before turning and leaving out the doors she came in. She stached Charon’s contract in her pocket as she went.

Charon followed as his new employer as she led him through Underworld, through the lobby, and out the doors. She walked quickly the whole way, then came to a sudden stop right outside the doors. She ran her hands over her face and leaned on the railing that ran around the subway’s stairs. Her dog bound forward and sat next to her feet, panting.

Charon stepped forward to look out over the mall, figuring if she needed something from him she’d say something. He knew if the super mutants known to camp there spotted his employer, they’d attack.

“What’s this, tourist? You get Charon’s contract?” Willow walked up to Charon’s employer, smoking a cigarette. Charon cast Willow a disinterested look, then went back to surveying the landscape.

“Yeah, but I think we might have a problem. Charon killed Ahzrukhal.” His employer sounded upset. Charon quirked a brow, but didn’t look at her or say anything.

“Did you tell him to?” Willow asked.

“No! I wouldn’t kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me first. Plus, you know, I’d like to come back here sometime.”

Charon did look at his employer, though he was surprised. Underworld was no place for humans. She shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Didn’t she see how many of the ghouls here looked at her, like she was either a threat or a piece of meat? She should just leave this place.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, tourist. Pretty sure most people will call good riddance and be done with it, you know? No one liked Ahzrukhal. He was a slime ball.” Willow took a drag from her cigarette. “Pretty sure some of ‘em will want to hug you. Lots of people owed Ahzrukhal a lot of caps.”

“Really? I’m not going to get kicked out of town for this?” Charon’s employer gave Willow a disbelieving look.

Willow chuckled. “Doubt it. Either way, just tell Winthrop what happened and I’m sure it’ll just blow over.”

Charon’s employer considered this for a second. “Alright. Thanks, Willow.”

“Don’t mention it, tourist. I’ll be seein’ you around.” Willow took another drag from her cigarette and, sensing the conversation was over, went back to her patrol around the Museum.

Charon’s employer lapsed into silence and slid down the wall so that she was curled up with her knees close to her chest. She pulled Charon’s contract out of her pocket and went back to glaring at it. Her dog laid down and closed his eyes, panting contentedly when she reached a hand down and began stroking his fur.

Charon took the opportunity to get a good look at her. Back in the bar it had been too dim and smoky to make out any details. Now, in the sunlight, Charon could see how pale she was, and how red her exposed skin. She had the look of someone who was meant to have a dark complexion but had spent too much time out of the sun, like those cave dwellers he’d met back in the Seneca Caverns in Ohio. Her hair was a rich dark brown and was long enough to be tied back into a messy bun. She wasn’t particularly short for a wastelander, but that was short in comparison to Charon. She had long, slender arms and legs and a heart-shaped face. She was young, no more than 20 years old, barely an adult. She was also covered in dirt and grime and blood from a recent fight. She’d never be able to pull off intimidating anyone. She looked too soft and innocent. Whoever had raised her had done a piss poor job of teaching her how to survive.

Now Charon was going to have to pick up the slack.

His employer sighed, stached the contract back in her pocket, and looked up at Charon apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make out what this says. Would you mind telling me?”

Charon turned so that he was fully facing her. “Do you wish for me to tell you the basics or the fine print?” Charon asked.

“Can we start with the basics and work our way up to the details?”

Charon nodded. “I am your bodyguard. I go where you go unless you say otherwise. I will defend your life and property with my life. I will perform any task you require of me. In exchange for my services you provide me with supplies so that I may perform my duties as need be. I am not an errand boy or cannon fodder. My function is to protect you and all that you own. No more, no less.”

“You seemed to hate Ahzrukhal. Why didn’t you try to leave?”

“I was honor bound to stay and serve him as long as he held my contract.”

“What do you mean by ‘honor bound’?”

Charon sighed through his nose, or, well, lack thereof, irritably. “The contract calls for me to serve whoever holds it until the day I die. I cannot leave the contract.”

“What happens if you try to leave?”

“A warrior without a cause would be dishonorable. I would wander, aimless, killing any that crossed my path. I would be no better than a feral dog that must be put down.”

Charon’s employer chewed on this one for a bit before asking another question. “If you want to leave, will you tell me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

She nodded and pushed herself off the ground. “Do you want to leave?” she said as she stood.

Charon looked at his new employer for a moment. “I do not wish to stay in Underworld,” he answered carefully.

“Yeah. Fifteen years is a long time,” she responded wistfully. She turned to look across the mall, then back at Charon. “Would you help me with the Museum on Science and Technology? I need to get a satellite dish from there, but I don’t think Dogmeat and I can handle the super mutants on our own.” She gestured to indicate that she was speaking of herself and her hound.

Charon drew his gun and checked it with a cursory glance. “I will do as you require of me, Mistress,” Charon repeated.

Some understanding seemed to pass between them then, even if it was a small thing. Charon wanted to leave. His employer wanted to take him with her. Charon was content with this, and judging by the way she relaxed and seemed more at ease with Charon. Though something he said seemed to bother her.

“Oh, please call me Grace,” she said. Right after she spoke she spun around, looking at Charon with a horrified expression on her face. “Oh my god! I didn’t introduce myself. I’m so sorry! You must think I’m terribly rude!”

Grace’s outburst took Charon by surprise, but he quickly relaxed when he realized what she was so upset about. It was a bit amusing.

His employer stepped forward and held a hand out to Charon. “Hi. My name’s Grace Moreno. This is Dogmeat,” she gestured toward her hound with her other hand. “I’m your new employer… If that’s okay with you.” She looked sheepish and more than a bit embarrassed.

Charon released his gun with one hand and took her outstretched hand. “I am content. For good or ill, I serve you.” Charon answered simply.

Charon’s new employer, Grace smiled shyly and turned her back to Charon, drawing her gun as she began walking toward the mall. Charon and Dogmeat followed close behind.


End file.
